Happy Friggin' Valentine's Day
by Lambkinz
Summary: SLASH. It all started with Dean's perfectly healthy hatred of frivilous holidays and a much-coveted sack of dust. Poor Castiel doesn't fully understand 'romance' to begin with, and this crash course is most unwelcome.
1. Chapter 1

_Don't even ask me what the hell this is. I can't stop vomiting up Dean/Cas apparently, so here is an incredibly ill-timed Valentine's Day story. (Unless you happen to be reading this on Valentine's Day at some point in the future, in which case...SUCCESS!) This takes place somewhere around the whole season five Valentine's Day fiasco, but totally screws with the timeline. This is my stab at the humor genre. I generally like serious Dean/Cas better, but whatev'z. Here's some fluffy LUV to get you through the impending WINTER DOOM. _

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**Happy Friggin' Valentine's Day**

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"If I see one more red heart I'm gonna puke, Sammy, I swear."

Sam Winchester looked over at his brother in mild surprise as they walked down the street together, raising an eyebrow. "Dude, seriously?"

Dean eyed him. "What?"

"_That's_ what you've been so grouchy about lately? Valentine's Day?"

Dean's eyes darted back in forth as he attempted to assess his recent behavior. "No. Er, well, you know."

Sam kept his eyebrow suspiciously high.

Dean snorted and quickened his pace. "You can't tell me you don't think it's the most annoying, useless holiday of all time. Paper hearts, chalk candy…fat, naked, hug-happy Cupids—or maybe you enjoyed that."

Sam lidded his eyes and easily caught up to Dean's pace with his freakishly long legs. "Okay, Dean."

"And I haven't been grouchy. So shut your pie hole."

Sam huffed an amused laugh. "Well no one's making you participate, so why don't you and Valentine's Day just agree to ignore each other until this week is over? Besides, what brought that up, anyway? Get your head in the game, Dean."

Dean grumbled, setting his eyes forward. Okay, so maybe he was a little more irritated by Valentine's Day this year than he had been in years past. After all, it was the easiest night to get tail there ever was. But with the entire goddamn world threatening to end, how could Sam not be annoyed by its stupid, oblivious occupants too busy making kissy faces at each other to even notice? There was no time for this nonsense holiday, and Dean didn't care how much he sounded like a lonely, bitter, crotchety old—well, Bobby Singer.

"This looks like the place," Sam said beside him, and Dean stumbled to a halt to look up at the shop sign above their heads.

Fodder Street Practical Witchcraft.

Dean sighed. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"What?" Sam gave him a familiar bitch face. "Word is that this place has more goofer dust, and we could stand to stock up with hellhounds popping out of nowhere. Do you have another magic dust source in mind?"

"So you're not even a little bit bothered by the words 'practical' and 'witchcraft' jammed together there in the same sentence?"

"I'm sure no one here is an actual witch, Dean," Sam reasoned. "Places like these are just for people who get excited about little voodoo rituals and bogus potions. If they have what we're looking for here, chances are they don't even have a clue how useful it really is."

"Great. Everyday magic for the Starbucks crowd. Good to know the supernatural's gotten trendy," Dean muttered. "Alright, let's get this over with."

A set of wooden wind chimes clinked against the door frame as they pushed inside, taking in the aroma of cedar, smoke, and a myriad of unidentifiable spices. The place was riddled with shelves that seemed to have no organization whatsoever, lined with everything from carved trinkets to aging bottles to dead animals. Dean shot Sam an 'oh yeah, good plan, Sasquatch' look and his younger brother shrugged. "You go right I'll go left?"

Dean muttered something under his breath about Sam's sexuality being suspect and broke away from him to peruse the hordes of hoaxes and junk. As Dean surveyed the shop, he let his thoughts wander, none too enthused about seriously trying to find something useful in this sea of crap. He would say this for the place though; at least it wasn't plastered with pink and red décor. Dean already had to deal with that at grocery stores, gas stations, bars, and just when he thought he could have a moment's peace, every channel on television. Now that he thought about it, standing around struggling to breathe through incense and sifting through animal parts beat the hell out of gritting his teeth through another Hallmark moment. He just didn't see how Sam couldn't agree. After all, with a dead girlfriend and his last lay being a backstabbing demon, you'd think he'd have had enough torture for one lifetime. But no, little Sammy was ever the hopeless romantic. It made Dean sick.

He almost wished that Cas had come along, just to back him up in this regard. Now there was a guy who was sure to see things his way. He smirked as he remembered the look on Sam's face a few days earlier while, despite his well thought-out explanation, a confused Castiel expressed his inability to grasp the holiday's purpose.

"_This seems rather impertinent to the situation at hand, Sam. Our priority is to stop Lucifer." _

And he was fairly certain that Cas wouldn't be pleased with all of these icons portraying angels as chubby, harmless, lovey-dovey cherubs. Angels were "warriors of God" as Cas liked to remind, and he'd kicked enough ass to prove it. And next to the rest of the maniacal, sadistic angel population, Cas was downright cuddly. No, angels were definitely neither cute nor benevolent. Well, okay, so maybe Anna was kind of cute. When she hadn't been trying to murder his parents. Dean reached out and dug haphazardly under a few stacked objects, pulling back a handful of large white feathers covering a wooden box. He flipped it open, but there was nothing inside, and he resumed his half-assed search.

He supposed they lucked out in the holy avenger department with Cas. Dean wasn't really sure what made the Littlest Angel develop an affinity for humans, but he guessed that up in Heaven he was probably the equivalent of the sensitive nerd that stopped other kids from stepping on bugs in the playground. Not that he wanted to admit it, but he felt kind of bad for the guy, having lost so much of his mojo in his effort to keep the two brothers breathing. There had been something there from the start, even when Cas was still tethered to his garrison, that was ubiquitously on their side. Dean couldn't even imagine doing any of this without him. Most of it would be downright impossible.

Cas…well, Cas was alright. He was every bit as much a part of the team as he or Sam. Looking back, he couldn't even remember how that happened. All he knew was that an angel turned out to be the coolest pet in the universe and they weren't giving him back for anything. His thumb unconsciously stroked the feather he didn't realize was still in his hand.

Dean blinked, looking around to see he had come to the end of the shelves. Why the hell was he thinking so much about Cas, anyway? And…why was he here again?

"Dean,"

Dean looked over as Sam appeared around a corner, holding up a large pouch with a nod of triumph. Dean was relieved. " 'Bout friggin' time. Let's blow this creepshow."

Sam gestured for him to follow and Dean hesitated, gently placing the feather back down onto a surface before he did so.

Knickknack Hell, as Dean had decided to dub this place, was a maze to navigate. The two of them took three wrong turns and bumped into each other once before finally finding the front counter. Combined with the complete lack of organization, it was almost as though they didn't want anyone buying this junk. The counter was just as littered with hocus pocus bullshit as the rest of the store. Behind it stood a woman in her mid-thirties with a shapely curved figure and long, wavy black hair, her light blue eyes down on a magazine splayed across the glass surface and her chin in her palm. She didn't look up as they approached her.

Sam cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me,"

"Be with you in one moment," she replied without looking up from her magazine.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

After another minute, the woman closed the article and turned her attention to them, a large smile plastered on her face. "What can I do for you boys?"

"Just this," Sam held up the pouch before placing it on the counter and reaching for the wallet in his back pocket.

The woman looked down at the pouch with a perplexed face, leaning back over the counter and making no attempt to exact a transaction. "Goofer dust, huh? That's interesting."

"It is?" Sam asked warily.

"Well, you two sure don't fit the norm of my regular crowd," she replied with a scrutinizing gaze between them.

"You can say that again," Dean muttered. Sam shot him a look.

The woman smirked. "What I mean is most people who come in here are looking for something wild. Anything unique or creepy or foreign, something that has a real taboo, pagan feel. Witch kitsch, I like to call it. But you, no. You two country bumpkins head straight for a bag of dirt."

"Is…that a problem?" Sam looked down at the bag, then back to her.

"No. Like I said, it's just…interesting." She turned a grin on them and folded her arms on the counter top. "But it's certainly nothing to impress your Valentine with."

Dean's eyes narrowed. She had to go and drop the V-bomb. "Look, lady, you wanna make a sale or don't you?"

"Dean," Sam warned.

The woman gave Dean another devilish smile. "Honey, I'm all about sales. Which is why I couldn't possibly let you leave here with nothing but a sack full of old hoodoo."

"It's really all we need," Sam tried to insist, but she was already running a hand along a little wooden stand of glass bottles filled with a maroon liquid to their right.

"How about a nice aphrodisiac to spice things up? This one's good. I usually sell out by now, but I brewed up this batch fresh. Absolutely positively guaranteed to make sure there's a nine mile line waiting for your next sexual performance."

A terribly uncomfortable smile played on Sam's lips. "That's…uh, we just—"

"What's the matter, lamb chop?" she pouted. "Don't tell me two hard, handsome boys like you are both _single_." Her eyes darted between them, and when there was a strained hesitation she tutted. "That's a damn shame. A real damn shame. I can fix it though!" she reached under her counter and pulled out a small jar. "How about a love potion?"

"Um, no, we don't need—"

She jumped back in to cut Sam off. "Don't worry; it's only a temporary one. Just enough to make your holiday memorable. …But if you double this up with my stud serum, she's more than likely to stick around once it wears off."

"Yeah?" Dean snapped. "You got anything in here that cures Chatty Kathy?"

The woman leered at him mischievously.

"Er, sorry," Sam said, clearing his throat. "My brother is sort of…"

"Skeptical?" she finished.

"Actually I was going to say stupid."

Dean glared.

"Alright, alright, so we're not the mystical type," she relented, holding up her hands. "But you don't really want to spend Valentine's Day all alone, do you?"

Dean mentally rolled his eyes and looked over at Sam, only to find a slightly melancholy look to him. Christ, that kid was such a sentimental sap bucket. Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Believe me, toots, we've got a lot bigger things to worry about these days than romance. _Right_, Samantha?"

Sam gave him an evil eye that was eerily reminiscent of their father and pushed the bag of dust closer to the register.

"Spoken like a true cynic," the woman sighed in return. "You must have spent your whole life deflecting Cupid's arrows, huh?"

Dean was suddenly reminded of being enthusiastically bear-hugged from behind and felt an inward shudder of revulsion. "Oh I've felt his arrow alright. Once was more than enough."

"It's just such a waste," she huffed. "At least let me show you one more thing."

Dean's patience was already tissue thin, but he kept quiet this time. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just because…well, there was something strangely enchanting about dark hair and blue eyes that he couldn't put his finger on.

Sam was less obliging this time, however, holding out a hand to physically stop her from reaching below the counter. "Really, we're fine. How much for the dust?"

The woman frowned in disappointment and drew herself back up. "Forty-nine ninety nine."

Dean jerked back in offense. "Fifty bucks? Are you kiddin' me?"

"Imports are expensive," she monotoned, casually jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "I have a cheap knock off in the back if you're feeling frugal."

"No, this is fine," Sam assured.

Dean pointed a finger. "It better _work_."

"Satisfaction guaranteed," she beamed brightly, taking the credit card from Sam's hand. She blinked down at it and bit her lip, thinking for a moment before her eyes scaled the shelf behind her. "Just a minute, my card reader is on the fritz. We'll have to do this the old fashioned way."

Dean barely resisted a "make it snappy" and shared a long eye-battle with Sam to express his dissatisfaction with this whole ordeal.

Sam shrugged in return and watched as the woman climbed a short step ladder, stretching a hand all the way up to the highest shelf and groping around. Her hand found purchase and she began to drag an old manual card slider forward, but as she did so it grazed a vial sitting next to it. The motion tipped it over the edge and sent it falling onto the counter right in front of her two customers, and as soon as it hit, shattered into a great cloud of powder. Sam and Dean pulled back, coughing and swiping at the air as the contents dusted their clothes.

"Oops!" she chirped, but made no motion to hurry as she maneuvered herself back down the ladder. "My bad."

"What the hell, lady?" Dean growled, still coughing.

"I said 'my bad'," she offered while she swiped the card, as though that were the end all be all of justification.

Sam patted down his clothes with quiet discontent and quickly scrawled a signature onto the slip he was handed. "Uh, thanks. I…guess we'll be going now."

"Finally," Dean snatched the pouch of goofer dust off the countertop and turned without offering so much as a goodbye. Sam watched him go and gave a polite, tight-lipped smile before turning to follow.

"Maybe I'll see you around sometime. I'm Tabitha, by the way. And oh," she raised herself up to peer at them over the shelves as they moved. "You boys have yourselves a _happy_ Valentine's Day."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for reading!_

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Other than procuring the goods, it was an altogether uneventful day for the Winchester brothers. Right now they were really just biding their time anyway, so instead of tense, fruitless hunts or pacing around waiting for information, they did what they usually did while stuck in a motel room with one another. Sam sat at his computer unsuccessfully researching more favorable sources for future supplies of goofer dust and Dean drank beer while watching Roadhouse on television from the bed. It wasn't ideal but it was reminiscent enough of the old days that they were downright comfortable for a few hours. The downtime was only broken when a commercial break aired and Dean decided not to sit through another Valentine related block of "buy her diamonds" and "now playing on the Lifetime channel". Instead he got up to seek out another beer from the fridge, studying his younger brother's glazed expression as he walked by.

"What's got you so down, princess?" he ribbed, popping open another bottle.

"Hmm?" Sam muttered. He tore his reddening eyes away from his computer screen, cheek resting on a palm. "What?"

"You haven't tried to annoy me with a conversation about our feelings all night. What gives?"

"Nothing." Sam blinked rapidly and leaned back, stretching his great arms up above his head and yawning. "Do I have to spend every waking second worrying about your emotional well-being?"

"No, but that's never stopped you before."

Sam looked back at his computer, leaning his head down before sparing one last listless glance his brother's way. "Jerk."

"Bitch."

"I have eliminated a cluster of demons three miles north of here."

Both brothers went alert as Castiel deposited that business-like statement into the air between them, their eyes landing where he had suddenly materialized near the table. "Dude," Sam breathed, "what's wrong with, '_hello_, I have eliminated a cluster of demons three miles north of here'?"

Castiel tilted his head and turned towards Sam. "Hello. I have elim—"

"No, thanks, we got it." Sam rubbed his temples and shut his laptop.

"Then I do not see why you wished me to repeat it."

Sam shook his head and made a glance at Dean that ended up being a double-take. Dean was _staring_ at Castiel. And not as in, "I see that you're standing in front of me". More like, "oh my god, I only just this moment realized you're not human". Sam raised a confused eyebrow and turned back to the angel. "Uh…how did you find them?"

"They ambushed me," Castiel reported. "I sensed a disturbance in the area but found no evidence of their presence when I arrived. …I believe my powers of perception are weakening as a result of my diminishing grace." He looked over at Dean, but didn't seem to notice the wide-eyed gaze. Of course. As the master of uncomfortable staring, it was no surprise that Castiel was unaffected by this. As soon as their eyes met, Dean looked down, taking in a sharp breath.

"Arrrre you okay, Dean?" Sam prodded, narrowing his eyes.

"Fine," Dean clipped.

Castiel turned back to Sam undeterred, then sat at the table across from him. "They were low level demons, but I believe they were following you."

"Following us? Why?"

"To keep track of you. They will want to ensure that you remain intact as the vessel of their lord."

Dean sat down with them, beer clenched tightly in his fingers.

"But you've taken care of them?" Sam confirmed.

Castiel nodded. "Yes. Though more will follow suit."

Sam raked his fingers through his hair and grumbled, all too used to news like this these days. "Awesome."

"You must proceed with extreme caution, Sam. The demons have caught wind of your taste for their blood and they will attempt to use this against you. The ones I destroyed tonight fully intended to offer you their own in order to strengthen your body. You must resist."

"I know, Cas. I'm doing the best I can."

"Do better," Castiel said flatly.

Sam glared at Castiel pointedly. "I get it."

"After the incident with Famine—"

"Cas," Sam raised his voice slightly, "can we just have one night where we don't talk about this? Please?"

"Time does not afford us the luxury of taking a night off."

Sam leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, trying to remind himself that Castiel was their friend and not someone he should want to punch in the mouth. Not that the angel would even feel it if he did so. "Whatever. Fine. Lay it on me, then," he challenged.

Castiel leaned forward. "This is not a lecture, Sam. I simply find your methods of self-restraint lacking. You would do well to actively practice resisting the temptation and not merely stand by waiting for the opportunity to do so."

Dean chose this moment to interject, though it was rather surprising he hadn't done so earlier. "Jesus, Cas, have you always smelled so good?"

The conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Sam slowly turned to look at Dean.

Castiel showcased clear confusion, but couldn't possibly grasp how absolutely, horrifyingly bizarre that statement was the way Sam could. He looked down at himself and paused to offer a patented clueless reply. "My aroma is unchanged." His eyes flickered between Dean and Sam before settling back on the latter. "As…I was saying, I believe it would be beneficial to—"

"No," Sam uttered, holding up a hand and closing his eyes for a moment. "_Wait_." He turned back to Dean before opening them. "What did you just say?"

Dean threw him a hazy look. "Hn?"

"…Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Never better, Sammy," he replied easily, eyes going back to Castiel. "I feel…great."

Sam's brow furrowed.

"Something does seem to be amiss with your demeanor," Castiel agreed, standing.

"What? Can't a guy just realize how…how freaking amazing you are?" Dean grinned almost drunkenly, even though Sam was positive he was only on his second beer of the night. "I mean, you are. Everything about you is just…awesome."

"Okay, wow," Sam pushed away from the table. "What the hell, Dean? Are you having an aneurism? Should I call an ambulance?"

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm better than fine. Everything's better when Cas is here." He smiled up at the angel in a way that was downright adoring.

Sam curled a lip. "You're freaking me the _hell_ out."

Dean continued dizzily smiling at Castiel.

"I do not understand," Castiel said. "It is very unlike him to say such things."

"You're telling me," Sam agreed. "I-I don't know what's gotten into him. Dean—Dean, speak to me, please, say something normal."

Dean didn't reply, still in his trance.

Castiel shot a befuddled look Sam's way. "Is he possessed?"

"No. I mean…I don't think so. We haven't run into any demons since we last saw you."

Castiel studied Dean with some unseen sense for a moment. "…He is not possessed." He waved a hand back and forth before Dean's eyes, which followed the motion gleefully. "Perhaps he is ill."

Sam worriedly assessed Dean. This was definitely not normal. Sure, it was no secret (despite what Dean might have thought) that he had a major soft spot for Cas, but he was so not the type to vomit his feelings out all over the kitchen table like this. In fact just a few moments ago Dean had been the same cantankerous ass that he had been all week, still not having recovered from the only mildly irritating incident at the witchcraft shop earli—oh god. Sam held a hand to his forehead as the revelation came to him. "He's lovesick."

Castiel took this in with great concern and zero understanding, placing his hand on Dean's forehead in an effort to gauge his temperature. "Is this an affliction that often befalls humans?"

"No, Cas," Sam sighed. "…Not Dean anyway. He's under a spell."

At this moment Dean chose to lean forward in his chair, wrapping his arms roughly around Castiel's waist and pulling him into a hug that was awkward for at least seven hundred reasons. Castiel struggled to keep his balance, looking comically alarmed. "Elaborate."

"W-we went into a shop today to get some goofer dust a-and this…this woman, she argued with Dean. Uh…something, something about Valentine's Day, I don't know, but it had to have been her. I guess she really was a witch…Damn it, Dean's never gonna let me live this one down." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, turning away in frustration. "I'm so stupid. Tabitha—ugh! That's such a _witch_ name, too!"

"What did she do to him?"

Sam watched as Dean squeezed the angel harder. "See for yourself."

"You are not adequately explaining his condition," Castiel grunted uncomfortably through his constricting abdomen. "Why is he so enamored with me?"

"That's a really good question. I mean you weren't even there at the time. All I know is that he was perfectly fine just before you showed up."

"I was terrible before he showed up," Dean contested. "Everything was always terrible before he showed up."

Castiel's eyes nervously darted back and forth. "Is this effect permanent?"

"God I hope not," Sam swallowed. "Christ, Dean, let go of him."

Castiel carefully extricated himself from Dean's arms and crept back, unable to ignore the way the hunter watched him with undeterred warmth. "I will…I will locate the shop's proprietor and persuade her to undo this."

"Good idea," Sam nodded, and Castiel quickly vanished. Dean sat staring in a daze after him and Sam approached with caution. "Dean?"

Dean didn't reply.

"Dean, snap out of it! Come on, I mean don't get me wrong, this will be the holy grail of teasing in the future, but I cannot deal with this right now."

"…Huh?"

"Focus, Dean," Sam bent down to his eye level. "You're cursed. That witch cursed you; she's making you think this way about Cas."

"I love him."

Sam's eyes widened. "…Dean, you don't love him."

"Yeah I do, Sammy. What's not to love?"

"Uh, I don't know, Dean. Maybe that he's our friend? That he's an angel? That he's a _he_? And then there's the little fact that you've obviously been cursed by a witch—this should be sending you into a full-fledged rage right about now."

Dean paused reflectively. "Do you think he loves me too?"

"Oh my god, this is so not happening." Sam straightened up, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Castiel suddenly reappeared. "The shop is closed and there is no one there," he announced in defeat.

Sam's jaw clenched. "Well that's just great. What are we supposed to do? He's out of his mind; he's no good like this."

Castiel opened his mouth to make a suggestion when Dean stood up, wrenching him into another hug that was so tight it probably would have broken bones had the recipient been human. Sam winced.

"Missed you," Dean crooned.

Castiel made a face that was pained, confused, and mortified all at once. Sam didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or continue panicking his ass off.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry I didn't have time to get back to you all, but I'm now extremely flattered and blushing and terrified of screwing up. To even suggest that this sounds like a legitimate episode is amazingly nice of y'all. I pushed this up as soon as I could in light of an aforementioned bad week ahead for a certain reviewer that I hope this cheers if only slightly. So this one's for all of you wonderful folks out there; thanks again and hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a little shorter, but it makes its point. :D _

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"What sort of curse is this?" Castiel demanded. He sat at the table across from Sam once more while Dean stood in front of an open fridge humming the tune to some sappy love song he would normally never be caught dead even acknowledging he ever heard, let along be singing. "Did he drink anything? Did she utter an incantation to him? Have you checked for hex bags?"

"No, no, and yes," Sam muttered. "As far as I remember all we did was talk. She never even touched him. But it had to have been her. Right? I mean a cupid couldn't do this, could it?"

"No," Castiel affirmed. "Nor would it have reason to. And I would certainly know it if one had approached him."

Sam didn't even bother questioning why that was. "We were separated for a while…maybe he got into something in the shop on his own. Touched something he shouldn't have."

"That does sound like him." Castiel looked down as a cold beer was set in front of him, craning his neck up to look at Dean before continuing. "However I doubt the probability of learning such details from him while he is in this state."

"Relax, Cas," Dean purred, planting his hands on the angel's shoulders and kneading deeply. "You're always so tense."

Sam frowned and tried to ignore the new king of uncomfortable moments. "Wait, there was one thing."

"Yes?"

"It was…" Sam thought for a moment. "She broke a bottle open near us. It seemed like an accident, but…"

"What was inside of it?"

"Just some type of powder."

"And Dean came into contact with it?"

Sam's stomach grew cold. "Uh…well we both kind of breathed it in."

Castiel's eyes scanned Sam briefly. "And…you find that your feelings are unaffected?"

Sam nervously scratched his neck and began tapping a foot. "If you mean do I want to suddenly jump your bones then the answer is no. I don't feel any different."

"Hmm," Castiel mused, looking just a little too into Dean's creepy shoulder rub and damned if that wasn't unsettling to behold. "I haven't come across anything like this before."

Sam just went right on ahead and assumed Castiel was talking about the curse. "Comforting. What do we do now? We're short on time before this little end of the world problem as it is. He can't fight demons, look at him."

Castiel nodded. "Yes. I would predict him to be rather vulnerable like this. He cannot seem to remove me from his sole focus."

"Well we can't just sit around hoping that it wears off."

"No. But I do not know how to cure him."

Sam sighed. "There has to be someone who'll know."

Castiel's eyes narrowed as Dean affectionately ruffled his hair before wandering off. "I believe I may know someone with the potential."

Sam perked up. "Who?"

"You will not like it."

"_Who_, Cas?"

Castiel opened his mouth, then closed it, glance flicking from Sam to Dean. "…My brother Gabriel is especially attuned to such troubling… 'pranks'."

Sam slumped. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I do not joke. In fact Gabriel himself often cites this as the most bothersome contention between us."

"Gabriel?" Sam repeated. "Gabriel. The guy who trapped us all in TV land? Who absolutely _lives_ for messing with people's heads? Who's already killed Dean more times than I can count?"

"I did warn you that you would not like it."

"Yeah, but Cas, last time I checked, Gabriel wasn't exactly on our side. Oh, and kind of _pissed_ at us, too, now that I think about it. Somehow I don't think he's going to jump at the chance to help."

"He is the most powerful force we can currently contact with the lowest threat of self-destruction."

Sam resisted the urge to smack his head on the table. Why did that have to be true?

"No one's gonna destroy you while I'm around," Dean declared, casually sliding an arm around the angel as he sat as though it were the most natural gesture in the world.

"Your sentiment is appreciated, although impotent," Castiel replied.

"Cas, I don't know if it's worth the risk. Gabriel might just kill us if he knew where to find us. What would stop him?"

Castiel turned back to Sam. "He is not a monster, Sam. And I believe that deep down he holds some measure of affection for the both of you."

Sam balked. "Are you serious?"

"Why else would he continue to harass you the way he does?"

Sam thought for a moment, having a hard time equating an archangel to the socially awkward kid at school who tries to make friends by bullying them. "I can't believe I'm actually about to say this, but…alright. Fine. I guess it's worth a shot."

Castiel nodded. "I will contact him straight away. Dean, please release me."

Dean pulled away with a grin. "Anything you say, Cas."

Sam shook his head in disgust. Seeing Dean freely speak his feelings—fine. Seeing Dean perving on a man angel—okay gross, but fine. But seeing Dean being compliant? _Compliant_? Talk about the end of the world being very fucking nigh.

Castiel stood, wandering to the center of the motel room and tilting his head back, eyes closed. He let out a large breath and went very still. Sam was still one hundred percent sure that this was a terrible idea. Castiel's eyes opened. "Gabriel…"

Sam looked around, but nothing happened. No snarky voice greeted them, no ominous thunderclap sounded from overhead, and no one turned into any sort of vehicle. After a moment Castiel turned, giving the room a once over as well. When he saw no sign of his brother, his shoulders dropped. Sam couldn't deny that he was slightly relieved. "Told you he wouldn't help."

The look of disappointment on Castiel's face made him quickly wish he hadn't said that. "Yes. …I suppose it was a longshot."

"Not that long," a voice from the doorway intoned. They turned to see small-statured Gabriel leaning against the inside of the front door, arms folded and telltale smirk adorned. "Geez baby brother, just because I don't pick up after one ring doesn't mean I'm not home."

"Gabriel," Castiel breathed, stepping forward. "I need your help."

The archangel's eyes lidded. "I figured that. I also figured that the story behind it would be pretty rich if you're desperate enough to call me."

"I am very grateful that you came."

Gabriel held up a hand. "Well, I always planned to stop in anyway. You know, for that heartfelt apology you've all been working on about the whole leaving me in a ring of fire thing?"

Castiel sighed. "You had us captured against our will. And we did not leave you that way."

"No, but it was still pretty damn annoying," he huffed. "And your apology needs work."

Castiel tried to maintain his cool, but he was already unnerved and frazzled by this experience. "Please, Gabriel, now is not the time. There is something…something wrong with my charge."

"Is it that he's a cocksure, lug headed, gung-ho horn-dog with a crappy sense of humor?" Gabriel tittered. "Because I don't think I can fix that for you. I've tried."

"This is serious."

"Translation: boring."

"He has been cursed. By a witch. And I can neither ascertain the specifics of the method by which she has done so nor a way to reverse it," Castiel forced out before he could be interrupted.

"Curse? Sounds like fun," Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at Dean. "What's his ailment? Anything cool like belching toads or speaking in tongues or spontaneous combustion?"

Castiel glanced at Dean. "He has become infatuated with me."

Gabriel paused, the smirk on his face fading into momentary exasperation. "And you think that means he's cursed?"

"Of course he's cursed. There is no other explanation."

"Oh, please," Gabriel rolled his eyes, digging into a front pocket and pulling out a box of candy hearts. "You're not really that dense, are you? Hell, if you guys had your own TV show people would be constantly yelling 'just kiss already!' at the screen."

Castiel's brow creased in confusion. At that moment Dean stepped over, sliding Castiel's forgotten beer into his hands and smiling at him like he was the source of everything good in the world. Castiel numbly clutched the bottle and turned slowly to see that Gabriel had moved to his other side, snapping his fingers in front of Dean's face is sudden fascination. Dean didn't even blink.

"Wow," Gabriel noted. "That's not normal."

"Yes, then you see what I mean," Castiel sighed in relief. "He is not himself. I don't know what to do."

"Leave him," Gabriel suggested, biting down on a heart. "What's to complain about? Maybe you can finally get some action with him like this."

Castiel turned to him irritably, completely missing any thread of innuendo. "I don't see how that is possible. His action is vastly limited when he is so busy concerning himself with me."

"Boy, you poor little virgin, you," Gabriel wandered back to the door.

Castiel bristled. "I fail to see how that has anything to—"

"Look bro, if you're not as anxious to get all up in that as Michael is, that's your business. I just have one question."

Castiel said nothing, allowing him to continue.

Gabriel jerked a thumb in Sam's direction. "Why is he staring at me like that?"

Castiel whipped around. Sure enough, Sam stood, dumbfounded and dazed, looking at Gabriel like he was a sparkling chalice of freshly spilt demon's blood.

Castiel gaped, unable to find an appropriate reaction of his own, so instead browsing Dean's repertoire for something that could sum up his whirlwind of feelings. "…Son of a bitch."


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm so glad everyone likes the addition of Gabriel in to the mix. :D Personally, I don't really "get" the whole Sam/Gabriel thing, but I figured it would be fun to try and a friend of mine would kill me if I didn't add it in. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I hope you continue to enjoy my brain vomit! _

_Bluuuhhh, sorry about this chapter. It's just filler, really._

* * *

"Sam? Sam, please, answer me," Castiel bent down to where they had sat Sam in a chair, waving a hand in front of his face desperately. Dean was unpredictable and borderline petulant at all times anyway, but he couldn't lose Sam's level head. Especially not at a time like this.

Sam just smiled up at him sweetly. "Yeah, Cas?"

"You are under a spell."

"I am?"

"Yes. We must find a way to remove it."

"Why don't you just ask Gabriel?" He turned his head and sighed blissfully as he looked at the archangel in question. "He always knows what to do. He's so smart."

Castiel collapsed back into his seat.

"Okay, I take it back." Gabriel casually leaned an elbow over the back of Sam's chair, entirely too pleased. "This is so not boring."

"This is a disaster," Castiel said, eyes impossibly wide and staring at nothing.

"It could be worse," Gabriel shrugged. "Would you rather switch partners?"

"No," Castiel muttered automatically. He blinked, stopping to contemplate why that should be. What difference would it make? "What are we going to do?"

"Like I said, why do anything?" Gabriel shrugged, smirking down at Sam. "I kinda like him this way."

Sam grew a ridiculously broad grin at this statement. Castiel resisted an all-too-Dean urge to roll his eyes. "This is not a laughing matter, Gabriel. They aren't going to be much good to anyone like this."

"And you're telling me that's not a riot?" Gabriel snickered. "Are Lucy and Mikey really gonna want them this way? If they do manage to get their hands on their precious vessels they'll end up fighting the urge to mack on one of their own brothers."

Castiel scowled, or at least gave his best approximation of one. "You may be flippant about the state of the human race, but I am not. I have done everything within my power to keep the apocalypse from happening, and so have they. I will not allow a simple mortal witch's idea of a practical joke to ruin everything."

"Well good luck with that," Gabriel said.

Castiel looked up at him helplessly, expression distraught. "Surely you can temper the curse's effects."

Gabriel waved his hands. "Hey, don't look at me. You know Dad—I can torture, kill, maim, love 'em, leave 'em, but free will is strictly off limits. There's nothing _I_ can do about what they feel."

"Yes, but this is not the way they truly feel," Castiel pointed out.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

"Sam vehemently dislikes you," Castiel stated bluntly. "And Dean…Dean does not regard me in that way."

"Who said I don't like Gabriel?" Sam reared back, clearly scandalized. "I've always liked Gabriel! He's funny, a-and he's tough, and he knows how to have a good time. What's not to like?"

"Thanks, kiddo." Gabriel patted him on the head like he would a great dog who's just learned to bark at intruders.

"Hey Cas?" Dean finally spoke from his seat, elbows down on the table and his chin resting on his wrists.

Castiel summoned up what was left of his patience. "Yes, Dean?"

"You're awesome."

Castiel sighed. "There must be something you can do."

"Okay, alright, I'll throw you a bone," Gabriel relented. "Do you know how this happened?"

"Sam told me that they went to a witch's shop and accidentally inhaled a powdery substance."

"What color was it?"

Castiel wracked his brain and found nothing. He shifted in frustration, looking hard at Dean. "Dean. I need you to remember something for me."

Dean smiled, practically intoxicated by the angel's attention. "Okay."

"Do you remember visiting a shop earlier today?"

"Uh huh."

"And do you remember a bottle breaking while you were there?"

"How'd you know that?" Dean laughed, his tone making it clear that he could really care less about the answer.

"Do you remember the color of its contents?"

"Blue," said Dean.

"Red," said Sam.

The two angels looked at one another, then back at the brothers who had simultaneously given a different color.

Sam and Dean looked at each other somewhat startled then blurted similarly well-timed statements.

"I mean red," said Dean.

"Er, blue," said Sam.

The Winchester brothers regarded each other with confusion, then shrugged.

"Purple it is," Gabriel snorted.

Castiel shook his head. "This is getting us nowhere."

"Captain Obvious, you've saved the day once again. Look, what's the big deal? Why don't you just buzz back here tomorrow and take them to the shop when it reopens?" Gabriel suggested.

"I cannot leave them alone in this state."

"Why not? Afraid your precious goon will fall for someone else in the meantime?"

Castiel shot him a look. "I have no way of knowing what other side effects may manifest from this curse. They would not wish for me to leave them like this."

"Yeah, enough with the vanishing act already," Dean agreed, reaching out and dragging Castiel closer by his tie. "Stay, Cas. Stay for good."

Castiel gulped.

"He sure wouldn't at least," Gabriel conceded.

"Are you staying, too?" Sam asked, leaning his head back to gaze up at Gabriel.

Castiel couldn't help but notice that Gabriel's obnoxious answering grin was just a tad more genuine than usual. "Sorry, Sammy. I'd love to stick around and see Castiel play mother hen, but I'm sadly needed elsewhere."

"You're leaving now?" Castiel paled.

"Hey, I never said I'd clean up your mess for you. But I'll tell you what," he plucked a red heart-shaped lollipop out of thin air and unwrapped the end as he spoke, poking it into Sam's mouth. "I'll drop in and check on you tomorrow to see if things are still this hilarious. Ta for now, boys."

"But—" Castiel lurched forward, but Gabriel had already disappeared. He slowly pulled back and looked between the two nearly catatonic brothers. He believed this is what Dean would refer to as being "royally screwed".


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks for the feedback, guys! Sorry about another short snippet chapter in which nothing exciting happens, the next one should be much longer, I think. I'm kind of struggling with breaking these up. And I'm playing it by ear, so it might be total chaos. Yaaay, chaos! _

_Also-after the last episode from season six, is Rufus anyone else's new favorite character? XD_

* * *

"Are the two of you…hungry?" Castiel inquired awkwardly, pacing about the motel room and shooting them strained glances. "You have not eaten since my arrival."

"I miss Gabriel," Sam sighed around the lollipop still sticking between his teeth.

"What do you need him for? We got Cas. No one's better than Cas," Dean reminded.

"Pfffffffffffft, Cas is lame."

Castiel swiped a hand over his face. "I'll take that as a yes. Will the both of you be alright if I leave for a moment to get you something?"

They both offered him a glazed stare.

"Why am I asking?" Castiel murmured to himself, turning away.

"Hey wait, Cas," Dean cried, patting himself down suddenly.

Castiel was suspicious, but wandered over. "Yes?"

"You'll need this." He thrust out a credit card found in a back pocket, holding it up to the angel certainly.

Castiel blinked a few times, feeling a strange sense of pride that Dean could manage to be quick thinking and useful even when handicapped by a mind-altering bewitchment. "Yes, I suppose that would be helpful. Thank you, Dean."

Dean smiled at him with so much happiness that it was almost disturbing. He had never seen Dean look so happy before. Something close to it had emerged that night outside the brothel he had insisted on taking them to, his eyes alight as he clapped Castiel on the shoulder and laughed heartily for reasons that the angel didn't understand but nonetheless enjoyed…maybe that was the true source of his discontent. Dean never seemed happy. He couldn't be blamed for this of course—circumstances as they were, happiness had no place—but it was still rather…upsetting. For a man who had done so much for others, it hardly seemed fair that he should never glean an ounce of contentment for himself.

Castiel felt a fumbling urge to placate him now. "What…what would you like?"

Dean went back to staring at him with wordless admiration.

"Never mind." Castiel curbed his exasperation as best he could and flitted off.

In some respect, Castiel supposed he had Famine to thank. After all, if an insatiable drive for meat had never forced him to learn, he would have utterly no clue how to order a fast food meal. The nearest restaurant was a hotdog joint around the corner from the motel that claimed to have "the best wieners in town", and while it would have taken him the same amount of time to fly to a location halfway across the world if he so chose, it eased his nerves slightly to imagine himself only a short distance away. He was quickly embarrassed to find that he had no real idea how much they generally ate in one sitting, despite having spent so much time with them, and didn't understand in the least why half the store's young staff members burst into hiccups of laughter when he asked them how many foot-long wieners it would take to satisfy two lovesick men in one night.

In the end he purchased far more than what could be considered necessary, but he did not want to have to go back out again and repeat the experience. When he reappeared in the motel room, he instantly found himself in Dean's arms. "You're back!"

"Yes," Castiel replied to the air over Dean's shoulder. He was not entirely thrilled with Dean having adopted Cupid's handshake as of late. "I did say I would return shortly."

"Yeah, but I never know," Dean justified casually.

Castiel frowned. Surely Dean did not find him so unreliable. "Am I…untrustworthy?"

Dean pulled back, startling Castiel by placing his hands on either side of his face. "Naw, Cas. I trust you. More than I trust anyone."

Castiel felt an odd heated sensation in his face, and not just because there were hands there.

"It's just that you've, you know, gotten angel-napped or exploded on more than one occasion. And sometimes you disappear for a long time, and you don't call."

"…My apologies."

Dean smiled again. "Cas…you're the only guy I know who'd apologize for exploding."

Castiel was comforted by the fact that those sounded more like words the real Dean would say to him, even if they were sans the appropriate gruff tone and rolled eyes. Castiel looked around, unsure of how to meet this sentiment. "I will…call more," he vowed awkwardly. "If it will put you at ease."

Castiel watched restlessly as the two brothers merely picked at their food. A lacking appetite where they were concerned was certainly cause for alarm in his opinion. Humans seemed to be constantly eating, and if anyone validated that deduction it was the Winchester brothers. No, instead Dean seemed far too convinced that Castiel should eat first, despite the fact that he obviously didn't hunger, while Sam complained that Gabriel wouldn't eat this and therefore neither would he. It was going to be an excruciatingly long night.

As an angel Castiel didn't physically tire, but he could certainly become weary and he could not remember a time where he had ever felt more so. Towards the end of the night Sam flopped onto his bed to mourn the absence of his sudden obsession in solitude and in the meantime Dean inadvertently taught Castiel the value of his previously much-loved "personal space" in a way the angel may have otherwise never understood. Eventually he simply resorted to ordering Dean to bed, which he obediently agreed to do with words but did not follow through with actions. Castiel was forced to sit on the second bed with him and wait until he had blabbered himself out, at last falling silent and, in unconsciousness, looking for all the world like a Dean there was nothing wrong with.

Castiel sighed, relieved to have the day over with and trying not to hope too dearly that this spell would simply wear off on its own by morning. He didn't like the way Dean was now constantly touching him. It was too strange, too intimate, too confusing coming from a man who before had practically defined reserve. It just made him feel…well, perhaps he wasn't well-versed enough in emotion to put a name to it. Either way it was an entirely untimely distraction from more dire concerns. If Castiel could not find a way to undo this, Sam and Dean, not to mention the rest of the world, would die. Again. He didn't think he could face that a second time.

It occurred to him that he should not be regarding Sam and Dean's survival as a priority above the rest of the world's, but there was nothing he could do to correct this error of thinking. This was what humans knew as friendship—placing irrational importance on a select few regardless of consequence—was it not? It was strange to be so desperately attached to others. It was not in his nature, and yet it came effortlessly, without much thought or consideration. If he was needed, he would go. If it was necessary that he sacrifice, he would do so. He had to admit that he had underestimated the strength of a human bond. He was certain, however, that without a single regret he would do anything within his power for Dean.

…And Sam, of course. Dean and Sam.


	6. Chapter 6

_You all rock! Especially **you**. _

* * *

"Honey, I'm home!"

Castiel didn't turn to face the speaker, still sitting in a cheap motel room chair with his cheek on his fist. "Hello, Gabriel."

Castiel's lack of observational effort was soon remedied by the archangel, who leaned into his vision over a nearby desk. "Aw, what's the matter, Castiel? Sleepless night?"

Castiel turned a weary glower on him.

"It's you!" Sam blurted, staring from his seat on a bed in awe as though his favorite celebrity had just strutted into the room unannounced. "You came back…"

Gabriel grinned, walking over to pinch Sam's cheek. "Could I stay away from you, gorgeous?"

"Do not touch him," Castiel ground out. "And be quiet. Dean is still sleeping."

Gabriel threw a distasteful glance over his shoulder at the slumbering older brother. "Well so he is. You must have really tired him out."

Castiel sighed. "He tired himself out."

"Didn't need that image, but thanks." Gabriel looked back down to Sam's adoring face. "I see your little curse is still running amok."

"Yes. And unless you're inclined to help, I would highly prefer it if you left."

"No, don't go!" Sam begged, gripping Gabriel's shirt.

"Now, you see that?" Gabriel tsked, petting Sam's head in consolation. "You've gone and upset him."

"He will be far more upset with you should he retain memory of this when he is cured," Castiel remarked irritably.

"_If_ he's cured, that is," Gabriel corrected. "So what are you doing just sitting around on your feathery rear-end then? Don't you have a witch to hunt?"

"I am waiting for Dean to awaken. I cannot leave him here unattended."

"Yeah, I can see that," Gabriel smirked. "I mean leave this guy alone for more than ten minutes and he's bound to slip in the shower, choke on a sausage, or get crushed by a piano."

Sam momentarily grew a puzzled, distant expression before shaking it off and leaning into Gabriel's hip.

"But never you fear, little brother. Good old Uncle Gabriel will watch the kiddies for you."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "I will not leave them alone with you."

"You don't trust me?" Gabriel feigned heartbreak.

Castiel rubbed his brow in frustration. "If you insist on lending your aid, if that is in fact your aim, then go to the shop and find me the witch."

Gabriel rolled his eyes and pulled away from Sam. "Yikes. Aren't you a sourpuss today? Alright, alright, I suppose it might make my day a little more interesting."

"You would do that?" Castiel blinked, surprised by the offer. It was admittedly suspicious of him to do anything that didn't result in his own immediate gratification, but Castiel would take what he could get.

"What's the difference? You owe me anyway, right? I'll just put it on your tab." Gabriel waved a hand and turned slightly as Sam stood up.

"Can I go with you?"

"Sure you can, Goliath!" Gabriel chirped.

"What?" Castiel flew to his feet.

Gabriel thumped Sam's broad chest in response. "You've been keeping poor little Sammy all cooped up in this place too long. Besides, it'd be cruel to leave him again. He's practically the thirteen-year-old girl to my Justin Bieber. A little field trip'll do him good."

"You are not taking him anywhere. Gabriel, if you—"

Castiel's threat fell on deaf ears as the two vanished from the room, leaving a panicking angel in their wake. He whirled around, trying to reach out and locate them with his mind, but Gabriel was powerful enough to cover his tracks and the markings on Sam's ribs continued to keep him hidden. Granted, it was a fair bet that they had gone to the shop like he'd asked, but Dean… He couldn't very well abandon a lovelorn Dean here to fend for himself through the clouds of his affliction. Castiel looked over to the sleeping figure and groaned, collapsing back into his chair with his head in his hands.

* * *

Hours passed with no sign of Gabriel or Sam. Castiel was pacing a trench in the floor, beside himself with worry. What would be taking them so long? Was this a good sign? Did it mean that Gabriel had found a way to reverse the witch's spell? Did it mean that they were found by demons? Did it mean that Gabriel abandoned Sam in a ditch somewhere once the situation became boring? Castiel didn't realize that his hands were fisting in his hair until he couldn't turn his head at a noise before removing them. He looked to the bathroom door as it shut. Dean was up. Castiel's nerves burned. Dean would be devastated. How could Castiel have let a renegade angel whose motives were dubious at best wander off with his little brother? How could he have called in that "smarmy little ass-clown", as Dean had once phrased it, into this situation in the first place, thereby putting the brothers in further danger? Guilt was not an unfamiliar emotion for Castiel, not since he had agreed to follow Uriel's heed or stood by and watched Zachariah bully Dean into a corner, but he didn't think it was something he'd be feeling again after having officially joined Team Free Will.

He stopped his pacing once more when he heard the shower start up and placed his hands on his hips. He would have to explain this to Dean, and that would not be easy. Dean probably wouldn't even register it in the state he was in. Then again, Dean often defied odds where Sam was concerned. Perhaps he had better make a peace offering…

It only took a few minutes for Castiel to flash to the nearest bakery and obtain a basket of hot muffins, which he was relatively certain humans liked. Surely Dean could be left alone for at least a moment if he was preoccupied with a shower—despite Gabriel's strange suggestion to the contrary. As he was setting them onto the table, Dean emerged from the bathroom, still somewhat damp and just pulling on a shirt. Castiel averted his eyes quickly, which was a silly reaction in retrospect. He had seen Dean without a shirt before. Dean caught sight of him and an eerily predatory smile crossed his face. "Hey, Cas."

"Good morning, Dean," Castiel swallowed heavily, gesturing to the muffins. "Surely you must be hungry. You haven't been regularly eating."

Dean's smiled softened. "Ah, Cas. You're always worryin' about me."

Castiel found with some annoyance that he could not truthfully protest this. "You give me much cause for worry."

Dean stretched, rolling his shoulders back and taking inventory of the room. "Sammy?"

Castiel shoved a muffin into Dean's chest. "Here. Eat."

Dean looked back to Castiel and his expression again turned glazed. "Huh? Oh, right."

Castiel sighed in relief and stepped back to the table as Dean took a bite. What was he going to do now? Leave Dean unattended and search for the pair himself? Wait for Gabriel to return on his own? That was assuming he would ever choose to. What if this was his way of teaching them some warped, horrid lesson? Gabriel himself had even outright said that he was still feeling irksome over their last meeting.

"Cas," Dean said, stalking over to him. "You know something?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"I'm startin' to think that Sam's not here." He once again pushed into Castiel's breathing space, setting down the muffin on the table close enough to Castiel that his arm grazed the angel's side when he drew it back.

Castiel's stomach felt as though it were twisting. "Dean…Dean, allow me to exp—"

"You don't have to explain," Dean hushed. "I wanted us to be alone, too."

Castiel's eyes widened as Dean gave a long, appraising look over his body. "That was not my objective."

"You don't have to play coy, Cas," Dean grinned.

"I am doing no such thing. The reason I'm here is because you are ill and I am sworn to protect you. And…the reason that Sam is not is because—"

"It's okay, Cas. You don't have to pretend."

Castiel tilted his head in helpless confusion, leaning back slightly as Dean leaned forward. Castiel suddenly found himself pinned between his lovesick charge and the table. "I am not pretending. While you slept, Gabriel returned an—"

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the details and lose the clothes."

Castiel nearly fell backwards. "W-what?"

Dean looked him up and down again, placing his fists on the table at either side of the angel's body. "I know you want it as much as I do. Besides, don't you think you've held onto your v-card long enough? Who better to school you than the master?"

"Dean, you are not in your right mind."

"Maybe not," Dean agreed with a chuckle, tilting his head in turn to match Castiel's angle. "You have that effect on me."

"No. I do not," Castiel gulped, resisting the urge to jerk back as Dean leaned closer still. His heart was hammering in his chest, his face hot, a hundred bizarre, human feelings and sensations kindling in his vessel's body.

"Yeah you do. You really got no freakin' clue what you are to me, do you?" Dean sighed wistfully.

Castiel's eyes darted back and forth as though looking for an escape, a ridiculous gesture for a being that could vanish into thin air on a whim. "I am your friend."

"You're not my friend."

Castiel blinked. "I'm not?"

Dean's eyes traced Castiel's mouth and he licked his own upper lip in what was surely a devious thought. "No. You're more. I mean Jesus, Cas, you've given everything you ever had in your whole damn life for us, and what do we give you? A hard time, that's what. A pain in your ass."

Castiel recoiled at the twinge of guilt that had emerged in Dean's tone, partially because it was so unlike Dean to express these emotions to him and partially because…that simply wasn't true. Sam and Dean had given him something to fight for. Pitifully enough, in all his years as a supposed warrior, Castiel had never had that. "You're wrong."

"No, I'm not," Dean denied. "Listen, Cas. Maybe I can't give you anything as good as what you're giving up, but I can give you all I've got."

"You don't owe me that," Castiel tried to assure. "I-I did not offer you my assistance expecting to be compensated."

Dean swallowed, breaths falling heavier for a long pause. "And I didn't pick up a stray angel expecting to fall in love."

Castiel couldn't overcome his shock enough to move before fingers were in his hair and lips were pressed firmly to his own. His pulse sky-rocketed. Heat flooded him everywhere. For a moment he was numb and blind, his mind a jumbled mess of overloaded short circuitry. It didn't even occur to him that he was being _kissed_ for the first time in his existence until teeth bit down gently on his lower lip and a jolt of some unnamed excitement raced through his veins. Castiel gripped Dean's shirt and wrenched him back, staring at him with an absolutely perfect understanding of human fright. Hazel eyes gazed back at him hungrily. In the next instant, Dean was catching himself against the table where the angel had disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry it took so long to post this one. We've got...I think...three or four chapters left to go, I think, if all goes according to plan. Thanks to all of you lovely bastards for sticking with me and reviewing! I'm unreasonably happy that you seem to be enjoying it. Enjoy this chapter-I had fun with it. And the next one is even funner-er. Er. In my opinion at least._

* * *

Dean was not in his right mind. To Castiel this was quite obvious, but nevertheless his brain continued to repeat that mantra back to him. Every act he chose and word he spoke was influenced by a fabricated yearning that had nothing to do with his actual thoughts and desires. It wasn't Dean's fault that Castiel couldn't properly handle extraordinary human emotions when ordinary ones already escaped him. It wasn't really Dean who had kissed him like a lover—it was the poison in his system. Dean—the real Dean, who was in control of his own mind—would never kiss him. The situation was simple to understand, simple to forgive, simple to overlook. Why, then, did he feel so utterly confused?

Castiel flexed his grip against the railing of the dock, shaking his head to himself. He wasn't sure why he had come here. Perhaps it was because the area was secluded enough for him to be left alone, perhaps it was because it was far away from the scene of the debacle, or perhaps it was because a place like this had existed in Dean's most peaceful dream and Castiel, having had no similar relation, chose it out of mere mimicry. Whatever the case he knew he wouldn't be able to stay here much longer. He had already left Dean on his own for hours now, and the guilt and worry gnawing away at his gut would not allow him to carry on this way. Even if he was terrified of going back, though that thought struck him as absurd. Dean would not harm him, and even if he were so inclined he would be hard pressed to succeed. Perhaps what he was feeling was not fear at all then, but he didn't know what else to call it.

Dean's words continued to circle in his head regardless. He had indirectly declared his love for Castiel, at least that was Castiel's best assessment of the dialogue exchanged. This was a difficult concept for him to comprehend. Angels felt fraternal love for their fellowmen and reverent love towards their maker, but Castiel was well aware this was not the love that Dean had spoken of. To humans, confessing one's love meant something different; something far more complex. Castiel had all the pieces to this puzzle but lacked the means to construe them. Love involved sex, but humans often had sex for reasons other than procreative with those they did not love. Love involved companionship, devotion, and reliability, but Castiel expected this of any benevolent relationship. Romantic love appeared to be inexplicably different. This was part of the reason he had been so confused when Sam had insisted to him that Valentine's Day was something other than a simple mating ritual.

"Maybe it is for some people," Sam had thrown a sidelong glance at his brother, "but it's supposed to be about love."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Love seems a superfluous reason to mate."

"Well, romance isn't exactly about the 'mating', Cas."

Naturally more confused than ever, Castiel had merely diverted the subject to remind Sam of more pressing matters. Having been saddled with this new dilemma, however, he wished now that he had acquired a better understanding of romance before having dismissed the notion. He supposed that he did love Dean. He loved Sam as well. Friends did bond so far as love, did they not? It was still strange to think of himself as having "friends", but that was indeed what they were. Did this concept of "romance" factor in between the three of them somehow? He certainly did not want to mate with Sam, and Dean…Dean, he…

Dean was still alone back at the motel. Castiel felt a very human urge to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat, unable to justify standing around out here uselessly any longer when his friends were in danger. With a solemn sigh, he closed his eyes and took off towards his destination.

As soon as he arrived in the room his eyes fell upon Dean, who was sitting at the table with his hands on his head, an expression on his face that was close to frantic. Castiel moved forward in concern. "Dean?"

The man in question looked up quickly, eyebrows rising. "Cas!"

"Yes," Castiel agreed warily as Dean stood up.

"You scared the hell out of me! I-I didn't know where you went, I thought…I don't know what I thought, but I was really worried, you know?" Dean sputtered.

Castiel drew in a breath. "Dean, I apologize. I know that this must be difficult for you, but you will come to understand."

"What is it?" Dean's face suddenly dropped, eyes widening. "It's not…I mean, it's not someone else, is it? Like another angel or something?"

"No." Castiel almost felt an out of place pulse of laughter. "There are more important matters at hand than romance, Dean. Mere days ago you yourself were avidly stressing this point. When you are back to normal you will remember."

"What do you mean back to normal? What's not normal?" he asked with a brief moment of clarity in which he ran his hands over his body to ensure that he was in fact whole.

"Your curse, of course."

"Curse?"

Castiel raised his voice slightly in exasperation. "The curse that is forcing you to believe you are in love with me."

"_Forcing_ me?" The ensuing wounded look he adopted made Castiel feel an unexpected stab of discomfort in his chest. The man had never looked so pathetically vulnerable and betrayed. He gave into the unbidden instinct to reach for him, but Dean took an uncharacteristically timid step back. "Hell, Cas. …I…"

Dean trailed off as two figures suddenly reappeared in the room behind Castiel.

"We're back! How are the Fairly Odd Parents doing?"

Castiel turned to see Gabriel standing behind him, Sam at his side, lovingly fatuous as ever and drinking a large Slurpee. Castiel was suddenly bombarded with an intense feeling of white hot rage—a culmination of his frustration with Dean's state and his own brother's shenanigans. "Gabriel!" he hissed.

"Hey, hey, whoah!" Gabriel at least had the decency to wince at Castiel's temper. "Easy, slugger."

"Do _not_ patronize me!" Castiel snapped. "This is not a game! You cannot kidnap a man at your leisure, not with so much at stake! Sam Winchester is in my care, and if you've laid even a finger on him I'll drag you into the pit by fistfuls of your feathers and hand deliver you to Lucifer myself you—you—_smarmy little ass-clown_!"

Gabriel blinked, pulling back slightly. "Wow. You need to take a few less footnotes from lover boy over there." He shot a glance to Dean. "And relax! As you can see, your second favorite pet's in one piece. Better, even. Don't you feed these kids? He was half starved by the time I got my hands on him." He gestured to Sam, who pulled the straw from his mouth and stuck out his now discolored tongue as far as it would go.

"Hey Gabr-ll, ith mah tongue bluh?"

"It sure is, champ."

Castiel resisted the urge to slam Gabriel into the wall. It wouldn't aid his cause and the archangel was far more powerful than him anyway. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly before finally managing to hold himself together. "Why didn't you go to the witch's shop?"

"I did. Scout's honor," Gabriel defended, holding up two fingers. "It was closed for the holiday."

Castiel floundered. "But…then surely you have been tracking her down."

"Nnnnot so much," Gabriel admitted. "What's another measly twenty-four hours gonna hurt? Don't tell me you didn't have at least a speck of fun with chucklehead."

Castiel made several twitches and jerks, stuttering half-growled words and looking as though he were about to erupt.

"Come on, Castiel, it's Valentine's Day!" Gabriel assuaged.

Castiel grit his teeth. "You…have potentially abolished…any chance we had at gaining an upper hand in this war."

"Don't be so dramatic. Typical Daddy's boy. You're wound so tight you think that one day off is the end of the world."

"Do not insult my intelligence, Gabriel. You cannot divert my purpose so easily with mere wordplay."

Gabriel snorted. "Losersayswhat?"

Castiel made a face. "What?"

"Aaaaaaaaah, Cas is a _loser_!" Sam jeered in delight.

Castiel deflated, dropping his face into a hand and rubbing his temples. "Sam. You have my deepest apologies. I should have heeded your warning."

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion before smiling again and attempting to offer Castiel his drink.

"Okay, okay, _okay_," Gabriel raised his hands, trying to diffuse the tension. "Maybe I was a little less helpful than I claimed to be. How's this? Tomorrow morning we'll track that witch down and get a refund for her whacky Valentine crack once and for all. I promise."

"I can do that myself. I don't need your 'help'," Castiel grumbled.

"Well then, bossy-britches, what _do_ you want?"

Castiel shook his head, turning away. "I want you to crawl back under whatever rock you've been hiding beneath for the past few centuries and stay there."

Gabriel pouted. "You know Castiel, that really hurts. Here I am baring my soul to you in an honest injun effort to make nice and you're too wrapped up in what I'm guessing is a lover's spat to give me a chance."

Castiel could admit that his situation with Dean was playing a large part in his mood, but he was still no more pleased with Gabriel than he appeared. "A chance to do what? Make this worse? I have plenty of faith in your ability to do that. If any of this mattered to you at all, perhaps you would have chosen the path of a warrior and not the path of a fool."

That time a chord really did strike in Gabriel. He straightened up, the mirth wiped from his face. "Listen, kid. Don't talk to _me_ about what it takes to be a warrior," he warned. "How exactly do you think you get to be an archangel? Cuddling kittens? I was fighting the righteous cause long before anyone ever rang your bell and gave you those fancy little wings. When you get around to my age, maybe _then_ you can preach to me about what a difference fighting makes."

Castiel eyed him severely, his anger sobering, and said nothing.

"Now I'm offering to help. For what it's worth, I happen to like you three idiots. Take it or don't, but you're giving this gift horse a tooth ache."

Castiel averted his gaze. "Very well. But I will not tolerate facetiousness on behalf of everything I have sacrificed."

"Fair enough." Gabriel tilted his head slightly. "…You know, I've always wanted to ask why this whole doom and gloom earth mission is so important to you, but…" His eyes slowly went to Dean, seeming to hold some understanding that Castiel did not possess. His gaze fell back on Castiel and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I guess that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it?"

Castiel didn't catch Gabriel's meaning, but it sounded enough like the end of an argument for him to walk away. He went back to the table where Dean sat, who seemed to have forgotten his previous fret and smiled happily when the angel appeared beside him.


	8. Chapter 8

_Happy Halloween, folks! For my favorite holiday of the year, I'm updating a story about my least favorite holiday of the year. Thanks so much for all the feedback! I'm not totally happy with this chapter, but I think I muddled through it okay. I hope you enjoy!_

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"Did I tell you, or did I tell you?" Gabriel spread his arms wide to showcase the shop that sat before them, unreasonably smug about something as unremarkable as having merely kept his word.

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "Can we please get this over with?" He was already none too pleased with Gabriel's antics. First he had kidnapped Sam, wasted a day, and on top of everything else had insisted upon taking Dean's vehicle to the witch's shop when flying would have been infinitely faster. _"Come on, when am I ever gonna get another chance to drive Dean's car?" _the archangel had justified enthusiastically as he swiped the keys from a love-drunk Dean's coat pocket. Castiel often found that it was in the best interest of time to let Gabriel have his way.

"Aw, I remember this place!" Sam noted with a moronic grin, hugging Gabriel to his large frame tightly.

Castiel looked to Dean to see if familiarity registered with him as well, but the older Winchester was merely staring back at him in that frighteningly amorous fashion, dead to the rest of world. Castiel swallowed heavily and looked away.

"So," Gabriel began, seeming unaffected by if not entirely unaware of being crushed in Sam's arms. "What's exactly is our game plan if there's no remedy?"

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, shaking his head.

"You know," Gabriel pressed. "If it turns out she doesn't have a way to snap them back to their grumpy, angsty selves?"

Castiel's mouth opened but words didn't come out for a long stretch. "I…she must," he said resolutely.

"Because I was thinking a Spring wedding," Gabriel scratched under Sam's chin.

"This isn't funny," Castiel snapped, but quickly got a hold on his temper, closing his eyes. "We _will_ find a way to restore them."

Gabriel shrugged, attempting to move but still caught in Sam's iron grip. He instead gestured with a head toss towards the door. "Well, after you."

Castiel gripped Dean by the shirt collar and dragged him forward, marching into the shop with their two companions in tow. The place was thankfully deserted, Castiel noted as he moved cautiously through the maze of shelves. Most of the artifacts lining them seemed to be tawdry and inauthentic. Perhaps that was why the Winchester brothers had found her to be so unassuming, and thus had fallen under her spell. It was a strangely clever charade for a witch to pretend to be an average human pretending to be a witch. Why, however, he wasn't sure. As they at last made it to the front, Dean tugged on Castiel's arm. When Castiel turned Dean handed him a long white feather and smiled.

"That her?" Gabriel muttered, breaking the staring contest between Dean and Castiel that was threatening to unfold.

Castiel looked over, spotting a woman with long dark hair sitting on a stool behind the counter holding a magazine in front of her face. "I don't know."

"Hi, Tabitha!" Sam bellowed, emphatically waving a hand.

Gabriel gave a dismissive gesture. "Guess that answers that."

The woman in question lowered her magazine, looking around in surprise before her eyes landed on the four men making their way over to her counter. She blinked a few times and a wide smile spread over her face. "Well hello there, boys! It's so nice to see you again. And how are we feeling today?"

Sam turned back to Gabriel and sighed. "Awesome."

"Yeah. Never been better," Dean agreed, hooking an arm around Castiel's shoulders.

"Huh." Tabitha's face scrunched up in confusion for a moment before she suddenly sat up straight, setting down her magazine. Her focus shifted back and forth between Gabriel and Castiel. "Oh. _Oh_! Wow! These two must be your…" she clamped a hand over her mouth as a loud bark of laughter escaped. "I have to say, I definitely wouldn't've called it!"

"I see nothing humorous about this predicament," Castiel spoke up, looking between Sam and Dean.

Tabitha waved her hands. "Oh, hey, don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against…that. It's just…wow, well, I had them pinned down more as…womanizers." Her eyes went to Dean for a moment. "Eh, him at least."

"What did you do to them?" Castiel demanded, rolling Dean's arm off of his shoulders.

Tabitha shrugged, still smiling. "Me? Not a thing."

Castiel stepped forward. "That is a lie. You have put a curse on them that has rendered them lovesick."

"Curse?" Tabitha's eyebrows raised and she adopted a somewhat offended expression. "You think it's a curse? I don't know about you, honey, but where I come from it ain't the worst thing in the world to have a man's undying affection."

"It may well be the 'worst thing in the world'," Castiel argued.

"I sincerely doubt that's the way you really feel," Tabitha huffed.

Castiel leaned forward. "Enlighten me."

"Do you really want me to spoil the adventure of it?" she frowned. "What's the matter? Didn't you boys have a nice Valentine's Day? I mean you're plenty cute yourself, trench coat, but you could do a lot worse than him." She watched as Dean again put an arm around his shoulders. "His attitude is so much better now, don't you think?"

"No," Castiel retorted. "Perhaps I am not proficient in love, but I do know that it should not be forced through artificial means."

Tabitha arched an eyebrow. "Who said anything about it being artificial?"

Castiel and Gabriel exchanged glances before looking back to her in silent confusion.

Tabitha sighed. "Isn't it obvious? What I sprinkled on old Beau and Luke Duke here was barely magic at all. The only thing it does is prey on a pre-existing crush."

Castiel's eyes widened. Surely she couldn't be telling the truth. Surely Dean couldn't genuinely feel…_this_ way about him. He looked down as he thought back to the previous day when Dean had confessed his feelings. He had expressed concern over Castiel's well-being, the desire for his company, gratitude for his efforts towards human survival. …He had claimed to be in love with him. Something heavy and warm settled in his stomach as he looked back over at Dean, unable to speak.

Gabriel grinned widely. "A pre-existing crush, huh? Well, what do you know? Sammy-boy's been holding out on me."

Tabitha snorted. "Maybe he has been, maybe he hasn't. It doesn't have nearly as much to do with him as it does you. The reason they're so lovey-dovey over you two clowns is because _you_ already had big fat crushes on _them_."

Castiel and Gabriel slowly looked to one another.

"Okay, so I admit it's an underhanded little spell," she chuckled, swiping a hand through the air. "It worms its way in and waits for the next person with tingly feelings for the host to saunter on by, and bam! Instant kismet for the secret admirers of the world. The person you're crushing on finally notices you, and _they_ land themselves a devoted lover. Everyone wins."

Castiel felt as though his lungs were slowly freezing solid as breath escaped him. No. Now he was certain that she must be lying. How could he have romantic feelings for Dean when he didn't even understand what romance was? And along with that startling revelation was the fact that…this meant Dean's feelings were indeed artificial. He was mysteriously crestfallen.

Gabriel's expression melted into the closest to embarrassed that Castiel had ever known him to drift. Upon seeing this, Castiel regained enough composure to raise an eyebrow at him. Gabriel caught his brother's scrutiny and quickly covered the falter in his demeanor with a clearing of the throat. "Ahem, well, let's cut to the chase, shall we?"

"Yes," Castiel nodded. "Tell us how to remove the spell."

Tabitha reeled back, huffing out an incredulous breath. "Remove it? Why would you want to do that?"

Castiel stepped forward, sinking into full righteous avenger mode. "This is not a reflection of their true desires nor is it an acceptable nuisance on our behalf. There are far more important things for them to be focusing on at present, things that have fallen to the wayside in light of this trivial obsession. You do not understand the damage you may have done by thrusting this diversion upon them."

Tabitha gave him an unimpressed stare before picking up her magazine again. "All transactions are final, sweetie-pie. I don't offer refunds."

Castiel seethed, a wrathful gleam in his eyes before Gabriel stepped in, patting the younger angel's arm and leaning forward into view. "Look lady, why don't you just give the guy a break?"

Tabitha didn't look up. "Yeah, I get it. You all think you're different, you all think you're special, you all think that just because your priorities happen to be where they are that that's where they belong. I meet a dozen shmucks like you a day who don't know what the hell it is they really need until they're locking lips with it."

"Yeah, yeah, if this is a lesson in something I think I'll pass," said Gabriel. "Now how about you just tell us how to break this spell and let us be on our merry way?"

"I'm not sure I really want to," Tabitha pouted.

"And I'm not sure I was really _asking_,"

Tabitha pulled her eyes away from her reading at last and smirked in amusement, leaning forward. "Yeah? And whatcha gonna do about it, short stack?"

Suddenly the lights were dimming. Sunlight filtering through the window panes became clouded over, leaving the shop dark and a mysterious burst of wind pulsed through the shelves from seemingly nowhere, causing every glass surface to splinter at once in a jarring crash.

"Jesus—_christ_!" Tabitha blurted, leaping from her stool and ducking against the wall behind her with hands over her head as she gaped up at the display in terror. Gabriel stood staring her down, tendrils of electricity slithering up his limbs. "What the _hell_ are you?"

"Annoyed," Gabriel snipped. "So if you don't mind, sugar lips, we'd really appreciate your cooperation."

Tabitha winced down further, eying the broken glass threatening to fall from the shelves above her. "I-I'll tell you whatever you want, just stop—stop that! Please!"

As fast as the darkness had come upon them it lifted, instantly bringing everything back to normal and leaving an impatient archangel crossing his arms before her. "There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"How do you break the spell?" Castiel demanded more forcefully.

Tabitha swallowed, looking around her and slowly straightening up but remaining pressed against the wall. "A-a kiss! A kiss breaks the spell. That's it."

Castiel's jaw tightened. "That is a lie. Dean is still affected."

Gabriel's eyebrow rose impossibly high as he turned to Castiel. "Oh really?"

Castiel's eyes darted back and forth between them and he swallowed. "He…forced himself on me."

"Suuure."

Castiel held up his hands, face hot. "Regardless, the kiss was ineffectual."

"Yeah," Gabriel sighed irritably, turning back to Tabitha. "Besides, if that did the trick Sam here would've been cured ten times over."

Castiel's eyes widened, lip twitching. "You didn't."

"Oh, I did."

"You took advantage of him," Castiel growled in disbelief.

"So we made out a little, big deal!" Gabriel snorted, waving a hand. "It's not like I tied him to the bed and had my way with him. And you're really one to talk. You expect me to buy that a puny little human overpowered you? Point being, it didn't work, so what's the real scoop?"

Both Castiel and Gabriel turned accusing stares on Tabitha, who shrank away in horror. "The—the—the kiss can't be with the person they've fallen for. They have to betray the bond. It has to be a kiss with someone else."

Castiel shot Dean a glance. "Who?"

Tabitha shrugged stiffly, hands still gripping the shelf behind her. "Anyone."

Castiel quickly reached up, grabbing Sam by the shirt and pulling him down. Sam laughed brainlessly. "Hey Cas, whatcha do—mmf!"

Gabriel and Dean both watched with wide eyes as Castiel forced his lips against Sam's. Gabriel gave an impressed murmur and gripped Dean's shoulder, who was staring on at the scene as though his heart had just ruptured into a thousand pieces. "Not my favorite Winchester, but at least this'll make for an endless supply of good jokes in the future. Come here, tiger."

Castiel shoved Sam back at once, hand releasing his shirt and eyes desperately studying the taller man's face for signs of returning normalcy.

Sam's face was frozen in shock, eyes blinking repeatedly. He stared down at Castiel and went pale.

"Sam?" Castiel hedged.

"Uhhh..."

"Whr—mf—the _hell_ off me you little—!" Dean's strangled yelp could suddenly be heard. Castiel quickly turned his attention to Gabriel prying his lips away from Dean's and grinning as the older Winchester skittered back, spitting and wiping his mouth. "Ugh, gh—! If you ever do that again I'll deep fry you in holy oil you dick!"

"You're welcome," Gabriel deadpanned.

"Dean," Castiel breathed, the relief rushing him at once. And just like that, he didn't care about the state of the earth or his fleeting grace or even the burgeoning doubt that his Father would ever be seen again, because Dean was alright. The rest of the universe be damned. Surely that was not sensible in the least but he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment.

Dean's eyes flicked to Castiel's, his frame going rigid. He then looked away, startled, flustered, and infuriated. His eyes bounced around the shop and its inhabitants before settling on Tabitha. His face contorted into full-focused rage. "_You_!"

Tabitha chuckled nervously. "Dean, is it?"

"I'll crucify you, you bitch!"

"Dean, please," Castiel interrupted, reaching out a hand to calm him only to have Dean jerk away from it. Castiel frowned.

"N-now look, how was I supposed to know that a little love powder would out you? I mean, come on, a-aren't you a little old to still be in the closet anyway?" Tabitha stuttered.

"_Out_ me?" Dean seethed. "Do you have any idea the—we were—I was—agh! Sam, go get my shotgun!"

"Ah, relax," Gabriel snickered. "She didn't actually make you do anything you didn't want to. Am I right?" He elbowed Sam, who visibly stiffened and swallowed loudly.

"Screw off, ass-clown!" Dean snarled.

Gabriel's face fell. "I'm really getting tired of that insult." He turned to look at Castiel. "Well sport, I'm awfully excited to see how you repay me for this one."

Castiel grimaced. Being in an angel's debt was an ominous enough state, but Gabriel's debt? He was in for at least a few centuries of torment. "If you'd like me to repay you, perhaps you'll make sure there's a world left standing in which to do so."

Gabriel wagged a finger at him. "Nice try, little buddy, but my work here is officially done. I think it's high time I hit the dusty trail." He leaned over to Sam, smirking devilishly. "Unless there are any objections?"

Sam continued staring ahead, eyes wide, still unable to speak.

"Damn. Well a boy can dream, right? See you around, freaks and geeks." Gabriel waved at the others before popping out of existence and leaving them at last free of his tricks.

"Good riddance," Dean snapped at the spot he had vanished, wiping a hand over his mouth again for good measure and glancing at his brother. "You alright, Sammy?"

Sam maintained a look of distraught mortification, like a child who's just witnessed his beloved pet getting crushed under a semi. "…I made out with Gabriel."

Dean reared back, face twisted in disgust before he redirected his temper back to Tabitha. "You freakin' perverted psycho! Where do you get off—"

"A _lot_," Sam finished.

"I'll give you whatever you want," Tabitha blurted numbly, still edging away. "I have more goofer dust. Take it. Take anything—take everything! Just please…for the love of Buddha…don't ever come here again."

"Perhaps it's best that we left, Dean." Castiel persuaded.

Dean didn't look at Castiel, fixing Tabitha with one more good death glare before turning and storming out the door. The angel quickly followed, Sam stumbling after.


	9. Chapter 9

_Did everyone have a bitchin' Halloween? Did you all watch The Walking Dead premiere? OMFG, new fandom, here I come!_

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Castiel wasn't entirely certain why he was currently sitting in the back seat of the Impala as the trio drove away from Fodder Street Practical Witchcraft. For all intents and purposes his duty was fulfilled. Dean and Sam were cured of their affliction, Gabriel was no longer around to pose any danger, and they could all get back to doing things that were more productive to apocalypse prevention. It was just so good to see them back to normal that Castiel couldn't bear to part with them. His eyes continued to flick between them as they drove down the road back towards the motel.

"I can't believe that little prick touched my baby," Dean growled through clenched teeth as he adjusted his rearview mirror. "I mean he's pulled some shit before, but this crosses the goddamn line!"

Sam wisely kept his mouth shut, a look of disquieted embarrassment etched into his face.

"And he thinks we owe _him_ a favor?" Dean continued. "An ass-reaming's what we owe him. More than one, too. I'm sick of getting jerked around by that…jerk!"

"Well..." Sam said carefully. "He did…_sort_ of help."

Dean grumbled, unwilling to acknowledge that. "I'd bet you my left nut he could have taken that spell off of us from the start if he wanted to."

Castiel straightened up. "Gabriel said that—"

"Yeah, I _know_ what he said," Dean snapped in return. "I was there, remember?"

Castiel sank back into his seat. "You…remember all that transpired while in that state, then."

"Everything," Sam confirmed, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Dean's face was tinged red, eyes shifting back and forth over the road and hands tightly gripping the wheel. "Could we not talk about this?"

"Sounds good to me," Sam agreed.

Dean sighed, calming slightly and settling into his seat. "I'm friggin' starving."

"Yes. The curse seemed to have the unfortunate side effect of preventing you from focusing on anything other than me long enough to even preserve your diet."

Dean gave an irritated huff. "Whatever. Let's get something to eat."

"Thanks, but I'll pass." Sam made a pained face, rubbing his stomach uneasily.

Dean glanced over. "What's the matter with you?"

"Valentine's Day, that's what," Sam turned slightly green as he thought back. "I must've eaten two pints of ice cream and a dozen candy bars."

"You? Binge on junk food? Why?"

Sam sighed. "I don't know. Gabriel kept handing things to me."

"And you ate them?"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously. I was cursed, Dean, remember? Could you refuse Cas anything?"

"I…" Dean stopped himself, looking away. "Didn't we just agree not to talk about this?"

"You asked," Sam shrugged.

"So don't indulge me. If I ever ask for details, just assume I've gone insane," said Dean.

"I apologize, Sam," Castiel murmured.

Sam turned with a pensive frown. "It's not your fault, Cas."

"Oh it's not?" Dean snorted. "He's the one who summoned that idiot in the first place."

Castiel looked down at his feet. "It was admittedly ill-advised."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean cut him off.

"I mean really, Cas, him? Why not just ask Lucifer? Was he too busy at the time?"

Castiel's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I would never attempt to contact the devil for help. That would be ludicrous."

"No, you're right. Instead let's call in the guy who's _succeeded_ in killing me."

"Dean," Sam began, shocked by his brother's sudden turn to anger towards the angel.

Castiel shook his head. "I'm sorry. I did what I could to protect you."

Dean nervously pinned his gaze to anywhere but the rearview mirror. "What are you still doing here, anyway? Don't you have…I don't know, angel business to take care of or something?"

"What is your problem, Dean?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing," Dean bit. "Excuse me if I've had my fill of angels for the week—hell, I've had more than enough to last me a lifetime! If I never see another one again it'll be too—" Dean looked up to the mirror to find that the backseat was empty. He swallowed, tone quieting. "…soon."

"Cas—" Sam turned, starting to address the angel that was no longer there. "Cas?" He stared at the seat for a moment before whipping back to face the driver. The look he gave was so venomous that Dean actually found himself shrinking back from it. "Real _nice_, Dean!"

"What?" Dean defended meekly.

Sam exhaled a sharp gust of air. "You're an asshole, you know that? An ungrateful, stupid asshole—that was our only friend you just told off! I don't know how _you_ remember it, but he _helped_ us these past few days. Just like he _always_ helps us. You know, I really don't get this sense of entitlement you have with him. It's like you think he owes it to you to bend over backwards every time you have a problem just because the rest of his kind are jerks. And when he comes through for the thousandth time and saves us from certain doom yet again, you throw it back in his face? Not even a thank you? No. All he gets is 'your family sucks and I'm tired of looking at you'. That's great. Fantastic. You just…ugh!" Sam threw up his hands, turning out the window and fuming silently.

Dean felt about an inch tall. For a long while they both sat in awkward silence staring at the road ahead of them, Sam trying to calm himself and Dean mentally licking his wounds.

Sam sighed, turning back to his brother with a gentler tone. "Why do you treat him like that? You take him for granted, you know. …We both do."

Dean looked down. "Yeah. I guess."

"You guess?"

"Alright, I know we do, okay? It's just…I don't know, it's hard to look a guy in the face when you spent the last few days with your hands all over him."

"He didn't put that spell on us. And if you think it was weird having your hands all over him, imagine how _he_ must've felt."

Dean chewed on his inner cheek in thought. Okay, so maybe being lusted after was pretty high up there on the list of things that could freak out an Angel of the Lord. But that was just it. The curse only took effect when Castiel came by because supposedly the angel already had those feelings. For Dean. Dean adjusted his shirt collar, suddenly feeling it was too tight. "Okay, I get it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't know what you have to complain about anyway. At least you got the nice one of the pair."

Dean couldn't help an arrogant little smirk. Sam had undeniably been stuck with the short straw in that drawing. "Bet you wish we never unleashed his ass from that angel trap."

Sam was quiet for a long moment, eyebrows pulling together. "I don't know."

"Huh?"

"Well," Sam began hesitantly. "And…I'm not saying that I condone what he did…at _all_…but…"

"But what?" Dean prodded. He instantly wanted to take it back, however, reminding himself that the last thing he wanted was a play by play of anything that involved the past two days.

"Dean, we've been through a lot," Sam explained, as if Dean didn't already know that. "Every day, every fight, everything, it's just…it's a lot. Killing demons and evading angels and hunting down horsemen. It's what we wake up to and it's what we go to sleep doing, assuming that we're lucky enough to sleep at all. When I saw Gabriel in the motel room, all of that just…well it didn't matter anymore. It didn't register. As weird as it was, all I cared about was him. So…in a way, it was sort of…nice."

"Nice?" Dean grunted in disbelief. "You call getting brainwashed into licking that jackass's boots nice?"

"It was nice to have a break for once, yeah. Did you even think about anything besides Cas during that time? Did you plan? Worry? Feel stress? …Did you even once think about hell?"

Dean blinked, lips parting slightly, but he turned his head away and quickly schooled his features. "…Maybe not. But if I wanted to ride out the end of the world on an oblivious high I'd pop back a couple of valium and lay my ass out on a beach somewhere."

Sam snorted in reluctant agreement. "Okay. But you still owe Cas a serious apology. Assuming he ever decides to come back after this."

"Cas'll come back. He always comes back," Dean assured, then looked up with exasperation. "We've got a world to save, after all."

Sam cocked his head in consideration, folding his hands into his lap. "I think we both know that's not the only reason he comes around anymore."

"Why else would he?"

"Come on, really?" Sam leered at him. "You can't be that dense."

Dean set his jaw, closing his eyes and so help him if Sam implied that there was anything between him and Cas other than friendship he would not only be due for a famous Winchester beat-down, but at this point he might also be right, and that was a whole new bastard of a monkey wrench that Dean was _not_ ready to deal with tonight.

"Because we're the only ones he's got," Sam concluded.

Dean's shoulders dropped. That was also true. Well, nothing ever made him feel quite as much like a fucking idiot as Sam's well-timed statements of the obvious. "Shit."

Looking at last satisfied like the haughty little bitch he was, Sam settled back into his seat, hand still on his upset stomach.


	10. Chapter 10

_You are all my heroes. SO FOLKS. This is technically the end! There will be an epilogue that will probably fill in some Sam and Gabriel gaps-mostly because when this chapter was over I just kept writing stuff and...well, we're just gonna call that spill-over a bonus chapter. So that'll be posted sometime very soon to wrap this bitch up. Thank you guys so much for sticking around to read, and I so hope you've enjoyed it! After the next and final chapter I post, I WILL get back to each and every one of you lovely bastards personally. (Which, despite how that came out, is not a threat. Honest!)_

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It had been nearly a week since either brother had heard from Castiel. They had since moved on, chasing down a demon worshipping cult two states over, but kept their phones on at all times in anticipation of the Castiel's sandpaper voice demanded to know their location. But that call never came. Dean coped with this in stages, first telling himself he really didn't give a shit one way or the other. He simply pushed Cas out of his mind and stuck to tracking down and exterminating hell spawn. It only took about three days for this to graduate into alleged annoyance at how the man only showed up when he felt like it and took his sweet time, something he began to frequently remark to a Sam who would give him a tired, knowing look and say nothing. After that stage had passed Dean was left too preoccupied with the guilt eating away at the lining of his stomach to voice his veiled concerns. Sam couldn't be right. Castiel wouldn't leave them. If he did…Dean didn't know what he'd do.

He couldn't really deny that he took Cas for granted. The truth of the matter was that he reached for Cas on impulse the same as he did for his gun—and that made him feel like the king of all dicks right there. He didn't want to think that he used Cas like a tool. Like a weapon at their disposal. That wasn't how they saw him, not really, and that was sure as hell not what he wanted Cas to think. He was their friend; another thing his damnable little brother had been right about. He not only couldn't do this save the world nonsense without Cas, but he didn't want to, either. Alright, and maybe he shouldn't have yelled at him. At the time he was beyond pissed with Gabriel and that lousy witch, and the glaring memory of pinning Cas against a table while he was orally assaulting him and _fucking loving it_ would not stop humiliating him every time he met the angel's infernal blue gaze.

Not that there was a right way to feel about kissing a man angel, but Dean was pretty sure the one he chose was the wrong one. It had felt eerily…natural. And there was absolutely nothing natural about making out with a divine being in a dirty motel room while your brother was being molested by and force-fed ice cream by an amoral supernatural trickster. No. It had to be the curse. That witch's perverted magic coursing through his veins, telling him that kissing Cas hadn't been weird at all. That it had been right, genuine, hot as hell and—yeah. The curse. That's all it was. But really, how could he face Cas again when he so clearly remembered every word he said to him and place he'd touched him in that moment? He'd rather have Sam catch him singing show tunes. …Not that he even did that. Ever.

Dean emitted something between a sigh and a groan, plopping down onto a motel room bed and rubbing his forehead. What the hell was he doing, anyway? This was exactly what they didn't have time for. Thanks to the worst cure ever, the curse was gone. Why was he still so distracted by Castiel that he couldn't think straight?

Well, there was only one thing to do about it. If he didn't hash this out, as ugly as it was, things would go downhill fast. He bowed his head, grinding his palms into his eyes and letting out a breath. "Cas. You there? It's me. If you can hear me, get your ass down here." He paused, biting his tongue. "I-I mean…you know, if you're not busy. Please."

"I'm afraid I have nothing to report."

Dean looked up, hands dropping. There he was, stoic and prim as ever, standing near the motel room door. "Cas," he breathed in relief. "I was startin' to think you skipped town."

Castiel looked around. "This is the first time I've set foot in this town."

"Right," Dean stood slowly. "What've you been doing all this time?"

"Searching," Castiel stated simply. "Rest assured that I will contact you when I find something."

"I know that, but…" Dean shook his head. "Look, that's not what I want to talk about. I wanted to…"

Castiel stared with unwavering patience on his stony face.

"Uh…" Dean looked away. "I'm…I'm sorry, Cas. I didn't mean what I said before. You're the one that got us outta that last jam, I shouldn't've…"

Castiel nodded. "An apology is unnecessary."

Dean was a little miffed at having his much-suffered sentimentality brushed off like that, but pressed on nevertheless. "We gotta talk about last week."

Castiel didn't seem to hear him. "Where is Sam?"

"Library. Like all good nerds," Dean muttered absently. "Now like I was saying—"

"You should dedicate yourself to finding the next horseman, Dean. Ruing past difficulties already overcome would be unhelpful."

It was almost as if Castiel were purposely avoiding the issue. Was he even capable of subtle deception? "I wouldn't exactly call it overcome."

Castiel tilted his head. "Is there some lingering after-effect you've neglected to mention?"

"I guess you could say that," Dean mumbled. "Are we just gonna pretend I don't remember everything that witch said? About me going fan girl over you because of…feelings…you have?"

Dean was sure that Castiel deliberately looked away that time. "I'm not pretending it didn't happen, but I see no reason to discuss it."

Dean closed his eyes, mouth opening and closing in an attempt to form proper words. "So—so what, you're…you're in love with me?"

Castiel gave a small, lethargic shrug as though it were entirely inconsequential. "Apparently, yes."

Now Dean really didn't know what to say. He left his hand hanging in the air in some aborted gesture, struggling to respond. "I…well…damn it, Cas, don't you think this is something you should tell a guy?"

"I was not fully aware of my feelings until the witch brought them to light. By then you already knew."

"And you're just okay with this?" Dean balked.

Castiel shook his head and looked even wearier than before. "It's irrelevant, as you don't return those feelings."

Dean swallowed to try and soothe his suddenly cracked throat, but received only a dry gulp of air and ended up coughing instead. Castiel, resident badass mother of renegade God warriors, was in love with him. He hadn't been able to accept this before, but with the words coming plain as day off the lips of the man himself, there was no more room for uncertainty. And instead of being horrified, he felt…damn it. He didn't know. _Not_ horrified, and that was bizarre enough. "I…"

"If we're finished here, my attention is of better use elsewhere," Castiel said rigidly.

"Cas, wait," Dean sputtered as he held up a hand. He shared a long stare with the angel, who was calmly waiting for an explanation. "Just…just wait."

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel prompted at length.

Dean wiped a hand over his mouth nervously, mentally cursing _every single thing_ about this screwed up scenario. He crossed the room in three quick strides, gripping Castiel by the collar of his shirt and yanking him in for another brutal kiss. His lips parted and he clenched his eyes shut. This didn't feel weird. Shit. Shit, why didn't this feel weird? He pulled back quickly and stared down at Castiel with heated intensity.

Castiel's eyes were wide—panicked almost—just like the first time. His cool façade slipped and his hands shot out to grab Dean's shoulders. "Th-the curse," he sputtered, blinking rapidly. "You haven't recovered. I don't understand, I—"

"Cas," Dean growled. "It's not the curse." He looked down, scanning the floor pattern as he tried to regain his bearings.

Castiel remained stiff under Dean's grasp with confusion. "Then what is it?"

"It's…" Dean swallowed, returning his gaze. "You."

"Me?" Castiel marveled through his still-evident shellshock.

"Yeah. You." Dean sighed loudly through his nose, still not releasing the angel's coat. "You and me, we've…had some good times, Cas. And that's pretty damn impressive considering everything I've had to put up with since I met you. Maybe that means something, I don't know."

Castiel clearly wasn't buying it. He turned his head, but kept his wide eyes still on Dean's face. "Perhaps I should check on Sam."

Dean's eyes lidded. "Would you stop? I'm not cursed. Not by Tabitha, at least. Maybe by the asshole you call a father who thinks this crap is funny, but…what I'm saying is: you…you know, you…_mean_ something to me. And not just as a holy hand grenade or a drinking buddy or a…a friend. More."

Castiel's baffled expression didn't waver. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Dean scowled. "Seriously?"

"I don't know the appropriate response," Castiel offered back helplessly.

Dean sighed. "Okay, so choose an inappropriate one."

Castiel's eyes flickered around the room for a moment before he looked down in contemplation. Dean couldn't help but notice that his cheeks were turning red. He didn't know angels could blush—outside of a whorehouse at least. He braced himself against what he was about to hear. Surely there was a lecture waiting behind that look—that angels and humans didn't do these types of things, that there was no time for this with the big damn apocalypse hanging over their heads, or maybe he would just disappear and this time never return. Well big surprise, happy friggin' Valentine's Day, that's just what you get when you're name is Winchester. …Then Castiel's eyes met his, and the angel boldly leaned forward to press their lips back together.


	11. Chapter 11

_Long epilogue is long. Looking back it might have made more sense to integrate most of this into the rest of the tale, but meh. Thank you all so much for your reviews, everyone! I'm shocked at how many people read this thing. My only regret is that it's nowhere near Valentine's Day XD. Whatever the case you all are super fantastic and I hope you enjoy the last chapter-I blame others for inspiring any sort of Sam/Gabriel interest in my writing. Sorry I haven't gotten back to anyone, but now that it's over I'll have plenty of time to field any questions, complaints, and generally squeal at you for how awesome a reviewer you've been. Which is all of you. May sexy angels from on high develop crushes of their own on all of you. _

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

Years ago, Sam and Dean Winchester had had a nasty encounter with one now deceased Bela Talbot whilst reclaiming an artifact in the form of a rabbit's foot lifted from their father's old lockup. In the ensuing effort to restore order, Sam had fallen prey to the artifact's magic and, upon having it stolen from him, had experienced a rut of bad luck so heinous that the very act of scratching his nose held formidable untold danger. Sam only thought of this now because, deep down, a small part of him was sure that his luck never fully recovered from it. How else could he possibly explain incidents like this?

Okay, so he couldn't say he was entirely unaware that there was something more than just a little tension between his brother and the angel Castiel from the get-go. They would have serious, brooding conversations together about death and hell and whatever else had fucked them all up, Dean seemed to get just a little too much joy out of teasing Cas, Cas was always there at Dean's beck and call. Sometimes there would be this thread of genuine affection that…well, to be honest, made Sam a little jealous. After all, how long had Dean known Cas before he started heaping trust onto him while he still gave Sam those suspicious looks over his shoulder? Not that Sam hadn't ever screwed up and not that Cas wasn't trustworthy. In any case, sure, there was always a bond between the two that Sam wasn't about to question or try and change. But this? This right here was too damn much.

As he sat at the table with his bewitched brother, watching Castiel desperately try and contact someone who was quite possibly the worst choice of all viable allies, he wondered to himself whether this witch spell affected Dean's feelings, or just the actions he chose regarding them. Dean would probably punch him square in the jaw for even wondering this, but it had to be asked. After all, why would Dean go so soft over Cas of all people unless there was something, whatever it was, already there? They'd seen plenty of people on the street on their way back to the motel that day—why not one of them? Of course things probably would have been a lot hairier if Dean had fallen madly in love with some strange woman on the street. …It would have been a woman, wouldn't it? Sam didn't have time to open that surprisingly worm-filled can because that's about the moment Gabriel appeared in the room and his brain was irrevocably shot to shit in a glance.

* * *

Gabriel. Was. _Awesome_.

It was outrageous how Sam had never noticed it before. He was witty, he was sassy, he was extremely powerful, he was so…good looking. In fact Sam couldn't believe he'd ever even thought about being interested in _girls_ when all the while Gabriel looked _this_ good. How stupid. Well, that was alright, because Gabriel was here now and that's all that mattered. Ever.

"How pissed do you think old Cas'll be about how long we've been gone?" Gabriel chuckled as he walked alongside Sam down the street.

Sam turned his attention instantly to Gabriel's face, pulling the Slurpee straw away from his mouth and smiling. "I dunno," he laughed. Gabriel was so funny.

Gabriel smirked. "Boy, you sure make for some interesting conversation like this, don'tcha?"

"You think I'm interesting?" Sam grinned.

Gabriel grinned in return, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous; it's like shaking car keys in front of a baby."

"I like doing that too," Sam agreed. It was amazing how much they had in common. They both knew about the supernatural, they both had brothers, they both drank Slurpees.

Gabriel finished the last of his red Slurpee and tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan, clapping Sam on the back. "Alright, well while I've got you so…enraptured here," he quirked a brow, "why don't you answer a few questions I've been mulling over the past few weeks?"

"Okay," Sam said. Of course he would answer questions. Gabriel wanted to know things about him and that made Sam happier than he could ever remember being.

"Perfect," Gabriel nodded in approval. "So what's the real deal with you two meat-suits and Castiel, anyway? Why's he so hell bent—excuse the pun—on keeping two lousy humans on the path of 'up yours'?"

" 'Cause he loves Dean," Sam shrugged. This conversation was boring. It wasn't about Gabriel at all.

Gabriel blinked, making a little 'hmph' of wonder. Sam thought it was sexy. "It's that obvious, huh? Even to you?"

"Yep." Sam sucked up another mouthful of blue drink and eyed Gabriel up and down.

"Hah. What a mook." Gabriel threw up his hands. "I figured as much. He's got the nerve to pretend he's on the honorable side of free will when really he's just chasing tail. And that might sound hypocritical coming from a world renowned tail chaser, but at least _I_ never disguised it with divine purpose." He paused, shaking his head again. "Castiel. In love with a human. Who'da thunk it?"

Sam had a difficult time keeping up with the gist of Gabriel's words, but his lips sure did look good forming them.

"What about your bird-brained brother? How does he feel?"

Sam shrugged again. "Everyone loves angels. How could you not?"

Gabriel laughed outright. "I hope you remember saying that when this is over."

Sam didn't know what was so funny, but he laughed too.

"Question number two," Gabriel began again. "…Why haven't you said yes to Lucifer?"

Lucifer. Lucifer, who was that again? Oh, right. "Because that would be bad," he answered resolutely.

"Profound," Gabriel muttered. "I'm serious, Sammy. You and I both know that it would be easier to just let the big kahunas hash it out, but you two stubborn apes refuse to let it be that simple. I just want to know why."

Sam fiddled with his straw to lower it to the appropriate level of slush in his cup. "I'll say yes if you want me to."

Gabriel stopped dead in his tracks, causing Sam to skitter to a halt and look back at him. All the good humor was gone from the trickster's face, replaced with a stupefied gape. "You'll what?"

Sam turned back to him. "I'd do anything for you," he declared. Wasn't that obvious? Maybe he wasn't being clear enough about his feelings.

"I uh…" Gabriel was actually at a loss for words. That was new.

Sam's brow furrowed in alarm. Gabriel shouldn't be upset. Gabriel shouldn't frown. This was all wrong. He closed the distance between them worriedly. "Gabriel? I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…was it something I said? Don't be sad!"

Gabriel's pensive frown gave way to a slight smile as he gazed up at Sam's face with candid affection. Sam didn't even have time to register relief before Gabriel suddenly leaned up and kissed him hard. Sam let out a muffled yelp of surprise, stiffening and dropping his cup to the ground where it splattered across the sidewalk. He may as well have never been kissed by anyone before. _Had_ he ever really been kissed before this? His eyes fell shut and he gripped Gabriel in his arms, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Hands slipped through his hair, teeth bit his lip, tongues slid against one another and Sam just about lost his mind. He lost track of time and place and all that existed apart from the euphoria of warm lips on his and the ragged breaths between kisses. Just when he felt utterly intoxicated and fiercely aroused, he felt himself pushed back against the nearest brick wall with contact broken. He blinked down at the archangel in shock, chest heaving, eyes dark and wanting.

Gabriel cleared his throat, smoothing back his mussed hair and straightening his clothes casually as though nothing had occurred. "Let's uh…enough with the questions, this game's kinda boring anyway."

Sam agreed. Kissing was _lots_ more interesting. "…Okay. But all was saying was—"

"You want another drink?" Gabriel wagged a freshly materialized Slurpee before the taller man's face.

Sam smiled, taking hold of it. "Thanks, Gabriel. You're the sweetest."

Gabriel beamed back at him. "Don't I know it. Now let's get back to the nest before little brother blows a gasket."

The next thing Sam knew he was back in the motel room with Dean and Castiel, but he couldn't be bothered to take much notice. His heart was soaring. At the time he merrily cemented this in his love-happy brain as his greatest Valentine's Day ever. Later, however, he would look back on it as one of the most surreal and horrifying moments of his life. Either way, if Dean and Cas were too distracted at the time to notice that Gabriel's tongue had a suspicious purple hue, well…thank God for small miracles.

* * *

Sam closed his last book with a long sigh, rubbing the page dust from his eyes and leaning an arm onto the table to cradle his aching head. So far this case was a bust. Despite a myriad of evidence at his disposal, he couldn't find a single good lead on the creature being worshipped by a local gang of errant small-town teens. Maybe it really was just a group of kids raising hell under the false pretense of a demon, but that didn't explain the sightings or the victims who were torn to shreds by searing hot claws. Whatever the case there was no information in any source he could find on the alleged demon Malcifur. No local legends, no ancient references, no potential name variants of other demons with a similar M.O. What a pain in the ass that _this_ counted as a distraction—a reprieve from hunting down more perilous enemies while they awaited Castiel's latest intel.

And did that ever suck lately. While part of Sam felt bad about having been right that Castiel would stay away from them after the last blow up, the other part childishly insisted that it served Dean right. But he wasn't even sure about that anymore. Clearly the angel's absence had a supremely negative effect on his older brother, who went from ignoring the issue to constantly complaining about it to worriedly glancing at his phone every hour and scanning every room several times over like he was waiting for an apparition to appear. Sam felt it was best not to talk about this one with Dean. He didn't feel like getting snapped at and nothing he could say would do any good. The fact remained, strange though it was, that there was definitely more between those two than Sam had ever dared to assume.

Whatever the case may be he hoped that Castiel would return soon. He'd had more than enough of Dean's attitude lately and it would also be nice to have just one small lead on the latest horseman. Maybe the angel was teaching them a lesson about taking his long-suffered aid in stride, and he would be right to do so, but Sam doubted it. Spite was almost as far down on Castiel's list of common behaviors as smiling. All he knew was that Dean would go crazy if he didn't show up soon and Sam would be driven crazy by Dean in turn. Just thinking about going back to the motel room right now and having a long, tense, non-conversation with his brother gave this pile of useless research a renewed appeal.

Sam leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms up and rubbing his face. As he reached his hand down to grope around for that little book of conjuring spells, his palm curved around something that felt oddly knee-shaped. Sam leaned forward and looked over to see none other than Gabriel sitting on the table, holding a box of chocolates.

"Hey there, Valentine," he grinned.

Sam yanked back his hand as though it had been burned, blinking at the archangel in surprise that quickly turned into frustration. "Gabriel!"

"Shh," Gabriel chastised. "This is a library, Sam. People are trying to read."

Sam bit his cheek with a petulant glower and leaned around Gabriel to try and make sure no one had witnessed his sudden arrival. The library remained deserted. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Gabriel retorted. "Chocolate?"

Sam reared back in horror as the box was shoved towards him. Just the thought of candy made his stomach scream bloody murder. "No. Now would you please get out of here?"

Gabriel snorted and pulled the box away, setting it down. "What's the matter, afraid the two of us being seen together is too incriminating? Not exactly the most intimate of settings here. Besides, this is public property. You can't tell me to leave."

"You're an archangel. I can't tell you to do anything. I was asking," Sam sighed, slapping a hand over his forehead and attempting to hunker down over his books. "I've got a lot of work to do, so if you don't mind…"

"You wouldn't have so much 'work' to do if you weren't so thick-headed," Gabriel decreed, biting into a crème-filled chocolate. "I mean sheesh; you're still looking for a _demon_."

Sam didn't have the energy to muster a sneer. "Yeah. It doesn't match up with the details of any demi god or disgruntled spirit or monster I've come across—what else could it be?"

Gabriel looked up at the ceiling. "Wellll, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, it's probably a duck. But if it looks like a toaster, walks like a walrus, and talks like a Bolivian ice-skating champion…it's probably all of the above."

Sam glared tiredly. "I'm looking for an ice-skating walrus toaster."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sammy, I always had you pegged as the brains of this outfit. What creature has all imaginable traits? Could it be…an imagined one?"

Sam's eyebrows rose, mouth opening as the pieces fell into place. "…A tulpa."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner," said Gabriel, slapping the book shut.

While relieved to have finally identified their culprit, Sam was displeased to consider the result. A tulpa did explain why the creature had so many variations and only seemed to have come into fruition after a teenaged cult gave it a name and the urge to kill. The downside was that it meant they were the only ones who knew how to kill it. He'd had a hard enough time tracking these kids down already, and was positive that when he did they weren't going to be obliged to hand over their secrets. And just thinking about dragging his brooding, pissy brother along for that grueling quest… "Great. Where did this imaginary demon even come from? How am I supposed to find out how to kill it? And the more people who witness and believe it, the more powerful it becomes."

Gabriel tossed an unfavorably flavored chocolate aside and continued digging through the rest. "Yeah, well…I _may_ have already had a little chat with your brat pack and sorted it out."

Sam frowned. "You what?"

Gabriel shrugged innocently. "Turns out their demon was just a creepy bedtime story big brother used to tell little brother to give him nightmares. Little brother grew up all sorts of freaky and took it to heart. So I gave the little punk the idea that his buddy Malcifur slipped his chain and turned on his summoners. I don't think he'll be doing any phony dark arts for a long, long time."

"Do I even want to know how you convinced him?" Sam winced.

Gabriel thought for a moment. "Mmm, not if you like kids."

Sam shook his head, still eying the angel warily. "Okay. Um…thanks. I guess."

"Thanks, you guess. That's Winchester gratitude for you," Gabriel snorted. "Come on, even you have to admit that I'm not so bad once you get to know me."

Sam thought back to the previous week, then to the previous year, and the one before that. All incidents included, how long of knowing this being had it taken for him to become just this tolerable? It probably wasn't worth mentioning. Today would be a terrible day to be smote. "You could be worse," Sam relented.

"I could be a lot worse," Gabriel agreed. "I mean here you are, safe and sound and devil free."

Sam silently asked himself just why that was. He clearly remembered offering himself to Gabriel's whims on a silver platter like the jack of all asses, but the archangel hadn't seized the opportunity. Why? He looked up and carefully studied Gabriel's eyes. "Gabriel, why exactly _am_ I devil free, anyway? I remember what I said."

Gabriel's face faltered briefly, then he waved a hand and snagged another piece of candy. "Old habits die hard. It felt just a little too sinful to exploit a loophole in your free will. …Besides, the whole thing would only play out if Dean hopped aboard the Michael express, and we both know Castiel never would've let him buy the ticket."

Sam nodded and looked down, folding his arms over his chest. "Well…thanks again. For that."

"Don't mention it."

"So," Sam looked up again, "is that it? The tulpa? I mean is that what you came here to tell me?"

"I came here because it seemed rude that I didn't even call after our first date. Or was the mystery spot our first date? Well, either way, you heard the witch." Gabriel leaned over to Sam, who leaned back. "I have a big embarrassing crush on you."

Sam's lip curled and he desperately insisted to himself that he was _not_ blushing. "I don't even know what to say to that."

"Customarily you're supposed to kiss me senseless once I've admitted my feelings. Haven't you ever seen a formulaic rom-com?"

Sam's pulled back further. "No."

"No what?"

"No to both of those things you just said. I really need to get back to the motel and—"

"And what?" Gabriel lifted a brow. "Watch your brother cry about his missing angelic teddy bear? I don't know how you can stand it."

Okay, so he definitely had a point there. Unable to manage tactful in his current state, Sam set his jaw and stared the angel down. "I'm not kissing you." Wait, what? No, that…there had to have been a cleverer rebuttal than that.

Gabriel only smirked. "Oh?"

"Nope."

"You sure?" he leaned closer, and this time Sam didn't pull back.

"Yep."

Gabriel pressed just an inch closer, voice lowering. "Positive?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Absolutely."

The two faced off for what seemed to Sam like decades before he growled in frustration and lunged forward. It was with begrudging roughness that he crushed their mouths together like Gabriel was the only source of oxygen at the bottom of the sea.

What the hell. The world was going to end anyway, right?

…Of course when he finally got back to the motel room after an hour of practicing some shockingly obscene acts in a public place only to find his brother fervently kissing an angel of his own in a way that mentally scarred Sam as sure as a lobotomy, he wished that it had ended just a little bit sooner. Maybe Dean had a point about this godforsaken holiday after all.

_~ fin_


End file.
